


Half a Teaspoon, Flat.

by LordOfThePies88



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Almost death, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coffee, Cottage trip, Dead people are still dead, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Drunk Derek Hale, Drunk Stiles, Everyone is Part of the Pack, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, mention of lydia and aiden, sterek, these two idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordOfThePies88/pseuds/LordOfThePies88
Summary: A cottage trip in which Derek is terrible at communicating, Stiles makes the drinks because nobody else will, Ethan can't make a coffee to save his life, and Danny's the only one who speaks a lick of sense.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic over 2k and with chapters and I'm really excited/nervous so I hope you guys enjoy it!!

Stiles quietly hummed a song he’d heard on the car radio earlier, stirring a large jug full of mojito ingredients with a long plastic spoon. _‘Mojitos!’_ everyone had cheered in unison, including Stiles, but he felt maybe his cheer would have been a little less enthusiastic if he’d known _he_ would be making the first round. He could hear Lydia screaming joyfully, which was a welcome change. Stiles looked out the sliding glass door just in time to see her thrown off the dock and into the water by Ethan and Isaac, though either one could have done it easily on their own. Returning to the kitchen to search for cups, Stiles was overwhelmed with a sense of calm. It was about time everyone got to relax and just be **normal** young people. They’d rented the cottage for a long weekend to celebrate making it through the first year of college, though Stiles wasn’t sure if they were celebrating passing grades or survival. He was jolted out of his thoughts by a bedroom door flying open. Derek emerged, wearing only a pair of plain black swim trunks. He was trying to turn a t-shirt right-side-out, and Stiles swore he could hear a frustrated growl rumbling low in the wolf’s throat.  


“That doesn’t look good,” Stiles commented, noticing a slowly healing slash on Derek’s side just before the t-shirt covered it. Derek had gotten in a fight with an alpha on Scott’s behalf only the day before. The alpha wanted Scott’s territory, since it was technically left abandoned when he moved to college, but Derek stood his ground.  


“It’s fine,” Derek huffed, smoothing the shirt over his body. Stiles scoffed, turning back to the cupboards to continue his cup-hunt.  


“Doesn’t look fine.” He finally opened the right cupboard and pulled what looked to be the right number of glasses off the shelf. “You should tell Scott. He’ll want to know his beta isn’t healing,” Stiles teased.  


“I’m not his _beta_ ,” snarled Derek.  


“So you’re an omega?” Stiles flashed a cheeky smile. “That’s _much_ better, Derek.” The smile faded from Stiles’ lips as he felt Derek’s presence much closer behind him. He could practically feel the brooding energy on the back of his neck. “Got it, not an omega! Just… an alpha waiting to happen!” He heard Derek take a step back. Attempting to maintain the weak illusion that he wasn’t scared of Derek, Stiles turned to him with the mojito jug in his hands. “You,” Stiles thrust the jug into Derek’s chest, “take this.” Surprisingly, Derek obeyed without hesitation. “Seriously though, you should tell Scott. Even if you’re not his beta, he cares about you and can help you.”  


“Help me?” A mirthless laugh tumbled out of Derek’s mouth as the two men stepped through the glass door. “The kid has trouble helping himself half the time. And Stiles?” Derek stepped into Stiles’ path, making him almost drop the precariously stacked glasses. “If you tell Scott, I will rip your throat out.” Stiles raised an eyebrow, waiting for the end of the threat he so regularly received. “With my teeth,” Derek obliged.  


“You know, someday you’ll have to make good on one of your empty threats because I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite.” Stiles motioned sideways with his head, suggesting Derek step out of his way. Derek hesitantly let Stiles pass and they continued in stride together down the grassy lawn towards the sand and dock. “You may be all scary on the outside, but on the inside?” Stiles watched Derek carefully out of the corner of his eye. “You’re just a sweet li’l pup.”  


“I’m a _what_?”  


“You heard me, pup.” Stiles smirked, rather pleased with himself, right before a loud roar ripped through the air and blue eyes flashed in front of his face. Stiles tumbled back, dropping all the cups on his way down. Derek stood in front of him, smiling, looking oh-so-innocent minus his quickly fading wolf eyes.  


“What did you do, Stiles?” Scott was watching the scene unfold from the water. He had already waded out far enough to be waist-deep with Kira.  


“Nothing,” Derek shouted, still smiling down at Stiles, “it’s all good.” He grabbed Stiles’ hand and yanked him up, pulling him close. Derek placed a heavy hand on the back of a wide-eyed Stiles’ neck, keeping him from moving away. “Now,” he sighed, “what am I?”  


“Not a pup, that’s for fuckin’ sure.”  


“Good,” Derek cooed, giving Stiles two firm pats on the cheek, “don’t forget that.”

\---  


After a couple hours and three more jugs of mojitos, the group decided they wanted to find the ‘jumping rocks’ they were told about by the cottage’s owner. Well, Ethan and Isaac decided, Liam agreed, and nobody else really argued, so off they went. Buzzed, happy, _normal_. Even Derek seemed to smile a little at the stupid jokes he’d usually roll his eyes at. Finally, they found the rocks, pleasantly marked by a sign warning that if they died then they were the only ones to blame. Stiles leaned over the edge, holding onto a small tree. He hadn’t expected twenty-five-ish feet to be so _high_.  


“Scared?” Lydia grabbed onto the same tree and leaned off the edge, peering into the water below.  


“Scared? No.” Stiles stepped back, wiping bits of tree bark off his palm onto his swim trunks. “I just have a healthy respect for things that could kill me.”  


“Yeah, it could kill you,” Lydia sighed, “but I feel no urge to scream,” she paused, “except I might do it as a reaction to falling twenty feet, but no banshee screaming. You’re good.” She patted Stiles on the shoulder. Smiling, she returned to Isaac, Ethan, and Liam who were too busy bickering over who got to go first to notice Kira and Scott revving up for a running jump. Holding hands, of course. The first splash of bodies hitting the water hushed the group. Everyone but Derek rushed to the edge to see if they came back up. Kira surfaced seconds before Scott who looked up, threw one fist in the air, and let out a cheering shout. Ethan, Isaac, and Liam followed suit. Stiles felt the whole scene was eerily similar to wolves howling, but this was more like a victory cry. They were all still alive, together, and as far as they could tell nothing was trying to kill them. Liam leapt off the edge, letting out a small yelp right before hitting the water. When he surfaced, he and Scott high-fived and found their way to the edge of the cliff to climb back up, following Kira’s path, who was already almost at the top. Stiles stepped towards Derek, letting the wolves have the first few jumps.  


“You don’t want to join?” Stiles leaned on a tree next to Derek, mimicking his pose of one foot against the tree and arms crossed, acutely aware that he looked infinitely less cool doing it.  


“It’s not my thing. I’m just here to supervise you idiots.”  


“Have you ever even _tried_ it?” Stiles got up off the tree, rather displeased with the way the bark dug into his bare skin.  


“Nope, nothing appeals to me about jumping off a cliff, potentially plummeting to my death.”  


“Oh my **god**!” Stiles risked getting his throat ripped out – with Derek’s teeth – and grabbed his forearm to pull him off the tree and towards the edge. To his surprise, Derek let it happen, though he kept his arms crossed. “You are **such** a buzzkill! Just give it a shot.”  


“I haven’t seen you do it yet,” Derek noted.  


“Well, that’s, okay, yeah, I mean,” Stiles took a breath. “Fine. I’ll go first but then you _have_ to.”  


“No promises,” Derek shrugged.  


“Yes promises!”  


“Fine!” Derek threw his arms in the air, surrendering rather quickly. “I will go, _if_ your skinny ass gets the guts to go first.”  


“We’ll make sure he goes over the edge,” Isaac said to Stiles, smirking at Derek. Derek slowly turned his head to the three betas, glaring, but thankfully no eyes changed colour.  


“You could always go together,” Scott suggested.  


“It’s better if you hold hands,” Kira purred, slipping her hand into Scott’s. Derek raised his eyebrows. “What? That’s not gay.”  


“Yes it is,” Ethan cooed, winking at Derek.  


“No, _that’s_ wishful thinking,” Derek said to Ethan, rolling his eyes, then turned to Kira. “And that’s not the point.” Ethan shrugged and stepped his way across uneven rocks to retrieve a beer from the cooler.  


“Alright,” Stiles huffed, “I’m going.” His toes curled over the edge and his heart hammered at his ribcage. He’d never been a fan of heights. He slowly inhaled, held his breath, and pushed himself off solid ground. Adrenaline poured through his veins as he fell through the air and he straightened his legs, bracing for impact. Water rushed around him and he relaxed, having survived the jump, but the adrenaline returned when he realized he wasn’t floating back up… and his ankle was burning. Stiles writhed around, trying to free his foot from the rocks. A lump formed in his throat and he wanted to scream for help. His lungs burned, he could hear his pulse rushing in his ears, and even though his vision was blurry, he could see red wisps of blood escaping from his ankle. Suddenly, hands were gripping his shin, pulling it back _hard_. With one painful tug, Stiles’ ankle was freed from between the rocks. A firm arm wrapped around his waist and they rocketed towards the surface, propelled by a strong push off the bottom of the lake. Stiles gasped for air, splashing to keep himself above water as he was pulled to the side of the cliff. He grabbed onto a root sticking out as he was spun around and open hands grabbed his face.  


“Stiles,” Derek gasped, “are you okay? Did you inhale any water?”  


“N-no.” Stiles’ bottom lip quivered and tears stung his eyes. Derek pulled Stiles into his chest with one arm, holding onto a rock with the other. Stiles didn’t fight. He felt Derek’s heartbeat against his cheek and tried to slow his own pulse to match the wolf’s. “Thank you,” he whispered.  


“Don’t mention it.” Derek gently smoothed Stiles’ hair and gestured for him to start climbing the wall. Stiles’ ankle stung when it was exposed to the air and ached when he put weight on it, but he could feel Derek wordlessly encouraging him from behind. Derek noticed the rest of the group silently watching them scale the side of the cliff, and realized they had probably been watching the whole scene from the moment he dove off the edge head-first, but he didn’t care. Stiles had been in danger, and he had been terrified. There was nothing wrong with comforting the kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a little lazy and decided werewolves could get drunk without wolfsbane infusion... please don't kill me!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a terribly impatient person with the inability to wait to post the next chapter.

The air was filled with the sound of a crackling fire and laughter. Stiles and Lydia giggled at the way the wolves would occasionally crinkle their noses, somewhat overwhelmed by the smell of burning wood, alcohol, and everyone's scents so close together at the same time. Ethan flew out of his chair when a car pulled up on the driveway, running to embrace Danny who had barely gotten to take a step out of his car before strong arms wrapped around his waist and swooped him off his feet. Ethan swung Danny around excitedly and Danny let out a hearty laugh. They shared a kiss as Danny’s feet were returned to the ground. Derek couldn't help but feel a slight ache in his chest. He was happy for Danny and Ethan, but selfishly wished someone cared for him just as much. He shook his head and gulped down the glass of whiskey in his hand, hissing through his teeth as it burned his throat. Stiles offered to pour another from the cooler between himself and Lydia, but Derek kindly refused. Stiles wasn't sure if it was all in his head, but he couldn't help but feel that Derek had been staying closer to him than normal since the incident at the lake, even though he'd assured the older man that he was fine, just a little shaken. Since when would Derek _willingly_ sit next to Stiles?  


"Alright, now that Danny's **finally** here," Scott stood, slightly swaying with half-shut lids, "I say we should pour one out for everyone who couldn't be here tonight." He raised a finger as if shushing the group, despite having their full attention. "Wait. Just me, for the members of my pack that I lost." The remaining members lifted their glasses and bottles in solidarity - Derek doing so hesitantly, not sure if this was a moment he was meant to be a part of - as Scott poured a glass of rum dangerously close to the fire. Stiles eyed Lydia, making sure nobody was going to die by fire tonight. She swiftly wiped away a tear. For Allison and Aiden, he assumed. Stiles watched as she quickly glanced around, making sure nobody had seen it, before making eye contact with him. He nodded slowly. _'I won't tell anyone.'_ She smiled, grateful.  


"What about Derek?" Isaac was sprawled out lazily, his limbs too long for the pink plastic Adirondack chair he'd chosen. Any chatter that had been starting up again hushed immediately.  


"What _about_ Derek?" Derek's fingertips turned white as he gripped the empty glass a little harder. Only Stiles was close enough to notice. He wanted to reach over and touch Derek’s hand, to comfort him, but didn’t want to risk getting punched in the face.  


"Pour one out." Isaac shrugged.  


"For who," Derek asked, growling through a clenched jaw.  


"Oh, I don't know," Isaac scoffed, "maybe Erika and Boyd, and anyone else we don’t know about, who got hit by the Hale-storm back when you _used to be_ an alpha?" Derek stood and his eyes flashed blue, and Stiles readied his muscles to jump out of the way of a wolf fight. Instead, Derek kept his eyes trained on Isaac and tipped his empty drink, letting a few drops hit the sand, then let the glass fall to the ground. He stormed towards the cottage, grabbing the whiskey bottle out of the cooler on his way, and almost stumbled over the patio stones before shutting the glass door – loudly – behind him.  


“Dude,” Scott groaned, dropping his head back and running a hand through his hair. Isaac shrugged and took another swig of his beer. “Uncalled for.” Isaac widened his eyes and shrugged again, his shoulders practically touching his ears, mouth of the bottle still firmly against his lips. Scott dropped back into his chair. An awkward silence settled around the circle.  


“So!” Kira clapped her hands together and sighed. “What do we want for breakfast tomorrow? I was thinking chocolate chip pancakes and bacon!”  


“Oh! Yes!” Lydia perked up, glad for the change of subject, her sudden jolt in posture causing a bit of her wine spritzer to slosh out of the bottle. “I’ll make mimosas!” She raised her hand, volunteering for the job. Some of the guys nodded. Stiles passed her a piece of paper towel to clean up her hand and knee while quiet conversations picked up around them. Lydia exchanged a look with Kira. _‘Good save.’_  


\----  


Stiles stumbled inside, the world spinning around him. Behind him in the grass lay Kira, Scott, Ethan, and Danny, stargazing, while everyone else took a moon-lit swim. He shut the sliding door behind him, muffling the sounds of splashing water and excited voices. Derek hadn’t come back out, and it had been at least an hour. Stiles couldn’t help but be a little worried. He braced himself on any sturdy surface he could get his hands on – recliner, table, counter, wall – as he ambled over to Derek’s bedroom. He cracked the door open, grateful there weren’t any locks.  


“Go ‘way, Scott.” Derek was on top of his sheets, laying with his back to the door.  


“M’kay,” Stiles waved at the empty kitchen, “bye Scott!”  


“Stiles,” Derek sighed. “You sh’d go back out –”  


“Nope.” Stiles shut the flimsy fake wood door and plopped on the bed, making Derek bounce a few times. “What’s up, sourwolf?”  


“Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.” Derek pulled his knees closer to his chest. Stiles’ hand hovered over Derek’s shoulder a moment before dropping and resting it on the older man’s back. He felt Derek’s heartbeat in his palm, slow but not calm.  


“That’s ‘kay. It’s not nec’ss’ry.” Stiles took a sip from the glass in his hand and coughed, an unexpected flavor burning his tongue. “Oh! Brought this f’r you.” He threw his arm over Derek, offering him a glass of rum. Derek hesitated, partially because he wasn’t sure he should have another drink, but also because of the way his heartbeat jumped when Stiles’ chest crashed into his back. “C’mon sourwolf. I brought it f’r you, n’ _I’m_ not gon’ drink it.” Derek took the drink and sat up, his left leg almost touching Stiles’ right. Stiles leaned his head back, bumping it against the wall a little harder than expected, and Derek downed the entire glass in one go. Derek reached over and cautiously touched the crown of Stiles’ head.  


“Y’okay?” Derek put the glass down on the bedside table with a loud ‘clink’. He winced, shocked by the noise.  


“Mm-hmm, m’fine.” Stiles reached over and spread his left hand on Derek’s chest, over his heart. He opened one amber eye and turned his head to face Derek. “Are you?” Stiles watched as Derek’s brow furrowed, his cheek twitched, his eyes squinted, his lips pursed, like he was going through a wild range of emotions in rapid succession. Finally, he stopped, his face stuck with his eyebrows raised and pulled together, and his lips tight. Ever so subtly, Derek shook his head. “Yeah, din’t think so.” Stiles decided to take a risk and pulled Derek’s head to his chest. When he didn’t resist, Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s broad shoulders. Stiles closed his one open eye and leaned his head back again, much more careful this time. He felt himself drifting off to sleep when Derek cleared his throat, jolting Stiles awake.  


“I fucked up.” Derek slid down, curling up next to Stiles, his head resting on the young man’s tummy.  


“Hmm?” Stiles idly stroked Derek’s hair. Derek relaxed under Stiles’ soft touch.  


“People died ‘cause of me. I w’s their _alpha_ , I w’s s’posed to protect th’m.” Derek moved his hand to rest it on Stiles’ thigh, running a finger over the stitches of the long-dried swim trunks.  


“Scott’s had,” Stiles sighed, thinking of what he was going to say, “Scott’s had people die too, y’know. It’s a… uh…” Stiles twirled his fingers in Derek’s hair, searching for the words, “an occup’tional hazard.”  


“S’diff’rent though.” Derek closed his eyes, feeling Stiles’ heartbeat against his cheek. Strong, steady, and slowed by alcohol.  


“How?” Stiles draped his arm over Derek’s waist, still stroking the other man’s hair with his free hand. He missed what Derek had said, distracted by the way he felt Derek’s breathing shake. Eventually, Derek’s head slid down to Stiles’ lap. Stiles looked down at Derek, studying his face as he spoke. His sharp nose, lips that didn’t smile nearly often enough, stern eyes softened by intoxication, sharp jaw that was probably tired from clenching in anger too many times in his young life. They stayed that way for hours. Derek talking, rambling on about everything from his birthday parties before the fire to stories from when he was Alpha Hale. The dim lamp on the dresser cast soft shadows across the room and Stiles had to shake his head a few times to make sure he stayed awake. He played with Derek’s hair the whole time and pretended he didn’t notice the way Derek’s voice shook when he spoke about Erika and Boyd, or that tears welled up in his hazel eyes when he mentioned his lessened power since becoming beta again. Around three in the morning, after Stiles heard everyone come inside and shut themselves in their respective rooms for the night, Derek fell silent and slid over to his side of the bed. When Stiles moved to leave for his own room, Derek grabbed his wrist and looked at the younger man with pleading eyes. He didn’t have to say anything for Stiles to settle into the bed next to him and stroke his hair ‘til they both passed out. They didn’t even bother turning off the lamp or getting under covers.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles woke up with Derek’s arm resting heavily on his chest. By the soft orange light coming through the window, Stiles guessed he’d only slept a few hours. He scanned his memories, making sure he did nothing more embarrassing than usual, and tried to remember how he ended up passing out in the same bed as Derek. Memories came back piece by piece as he lay feeling Derek’s hot breath ghosting across the skin on his neck. Stiles wanted to stay, wanted to curl up in Derek’s arms, but worried that Derek might wolf out when he woke up – sober – to a man in his bed. Especially if that man was Stiles. He vowed to never mention it unless Derek brought it up, but judging by the amount of booze Derek had downed the night before, Stiles doubted he would even know there was something to bring up. As carefully as he could manage, he lifted Derek’s arm and slipped out of the room. He shuffled to the kitchen and leaned on the counter. Down the hall, he could hear Lydia stirring, humming to herself ever so quietly as she padded to the bathroom. She waved at him as she opened the bathroom door. Stiles waved back and mouthed the one-word question, ‘coffee?’, pointing to the pot on the counter. She silently replied ‘tea’ while putting her hair up in a loose bun.  


One by one, people filed out of their bedrooms to join Stiles in the kitchen and living room. He’d made a pot of coffee and a pot of tea, knowing both would end up getting finished. Kira grumbled a ‘good morning’ as she tried to mask her shoving him out of the way as a loving shoulder pat, so she could start on the breakfast she’d promised the night before. Stiles brought everyone their hot drinks, remembering just the way they liked them made, one by one. Each member of the pack smiled and thanked him, until he got to Scott, who pulled him in by the shirt and sniffed his neck. Thankfully, everyone was too hungover or caught up in conversation to notice.  


“Dude – ” Stiles cocked his head and threw his hands in the air, “ – _total_ invasion of personal space right now.”  


“You smell weird.” Scott scrunched his nose and eyed Stiles up and down. “Are you depressed?” Stiles tried to keep his heartbeat steady.  


“We all smell weird, Scott. Booze makes people smell weird. Here – ” Stiles shoved the mug of coffee at Scott, finally getting him to release his shirt, “ – you need this more than I thought if you honestly think you’re smelling _depression_ on **me**.” But Stiles knew he reeked of sadness and tears, just not his own. He prepped a tea for Lydia when he heard the shower turn off. Exactly one teaspoon of honey to every two-thirds cup of tea. She gave Stiles shit every time he got it wrong, so he memorized it. Derek still hadn’t come out and Stiles wondered if he was a coffee or tea kind of guy. He shook his head when he realized that Derek was probably neither, too stubborn to admit he sometimes needed a caffeine kick or simply enjoyed comforting warm drinks. Kira sighed with satisfaction when she flipped the final pancake onto the massive stack. Nine people was a lot to feed, especially when most of them were werewolves. The crowd moved together from the living room to the dining table and Stiles asked if he should get Derek. Everyone shook their heads, Scott mentioning he’d heard Derek up late, talking to himself. Stiles took his seat, grateful that he didn’t choose the brightest best friend. He caught Lydia’s eye. She, on the other hand, was not exactly dim-witted.  


“You’re staring,” he said to the banshee. She elbowed him.  


“And _you’re_ keeping secrets.”  


“Yeah, and they’re not mine to tell.” Stiles jabbed a fork into a pancake and put it on Lydia’s plate, then did the same for himself.  


“Thank you,” she said, passing him the syrup. “If they’re not yours to tell, then they’re also not yours to ruminate and stress over.” She was right, of course, but Stiles couldn’t stop thinking of how hurt Derek was, and how open the otherwise untrusting man had been with him last night. Maybe the sadness Scott had smelled was some of his own, after all. You don’t hear confessions like Derek’s without taking them to heart – at least a little.

\----

The pack was gearing up for a canoe ride, the three betas bickering yet again, this time over who got to take the fastest-looking canoe, completely ignoring the fact that they could always just _paddle together_. Danny and Lydia paired up, and of course Kira and Scott were already setting off. They had invited Stiles but he wanted to stay near the cottage, just in case Derek woke up and came out of his room, but he wouldn’t dare tell anyone the reason why. Instead, he lounged on the patio with an iced tea, letting the late-morning sun warm his skin, focusing his energy on reading a book about mythical creatures from Ireland. Just because they hadn’t encountered any other than Lydia _yet_ didn’t mean they never would, and it was better to be prepared. Everyone finally managed to get their canoes in the water and the noise died down. After a few moments peace, through the screen door, Stiles heard footsteps inside the cottage. Slow, heavy. He froze as Derek’s bedroom door clicked open. Stiles watched out of the corner of his eye as Derek cautiously stepped out into the kitchen, gently touching the napkin with his name written on it, next to the plate of bacon and chocolate chip pancakes Stiles had set aside for him. His head twitched when he picked up Stiles’ heartbeat out on the patio. Stiles focused his gaze back on the book and Derek slowly moved, plate in hand, out to the picnic table on the patio. He ate the cold bacon and pancakes, without syrup, keeping a blank stare trained on the lake.  


“Have you ever heard of a Gancanagh?” Stiles turned the open book to Derek, unable to stand the silence any longer, showing him the illustration. Derek made no hint that he’d heard Stiles. “Derek?”  


“Nope, haven’t heard of it.” Derek shoved the rest of his pancake in his mouth and snatched his plate off the table as he stood.  


“It’s really cool, it’s like, this super handsome guy that – ”  


“Don’t care, Stiles.” Derek shoved the glass door shut, ending the conversation.

\----

The group made hot dogs over the fire, Derek barely spoke the entire time. Stiles and Derek bumped into each other in the hallway, Derek lifted Stiles and moved him out of the way. Stiles tried to bring Derek a peace offering, a leaf that he found that looked like a skull, but Derek sneered and slammed his bedroom door in the young man’s face. Stiles felt bad at first, but constantly being blown off when he was just doing his best to be nice was starting to get under his skin. Around six, while everyone else sang the _most cliché songs ever_ on the patio, Stiles strode to Derek’s bedroom door and slammed his fist against the flimsy wood.  


“Derek, open up.” He waited, but heard no sign of life. He pounded the door again. “Dude, don’t make me come in uninvited.” The door flew open and Derek stepped into his space, their faces inches apart. He said nothing, just stared daggers into Stiles’ eyes. “We need to talk. I’m not spending the rest of the weekend like this.”  


“We have nothing to talk about.” Derek made a move to close the door and, in a fleeting moment of bravery, Stiles slapped his palm against the door, keeping it open.  


“Nothing to talk about? Don’t play stupid with me Derek. I know you’re a whole lot of brawns, but also a solid amount of brains so either let me in or come out to the living room because you’re not getting rid of me.” Derek opened his mouth to speak. “Rip my throat out with your teeth later. Can I come in?” Stiles nodded at the room behind Derek. The older man, somewhat bewildered, stepped aside.  


“There’s nothing to say, Stiles.” Derek closed the door behind Stiles and crossed his arms.  


“Then why are you treating me like I murder kittens for fun?” Stiles threw his fists on his hips, arms akimbo.  


“It’s nothing, Stiles. Go out and enjoy time with your friends.” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.  


“I’m trying to, but one of them is being a moody jackass!” Stiles dropped onto the bed, feeling the soft sheets that brought back memories of a very drunken Derek the night before. Derek knitted his eyebrows together. “Yeah, shocker, I consider you a friend. So are we going to talk about how you’re treating me like shit because you’re embarrassed, because really, that was nothing to be embarrassed about, it’s healthy to talk –”  


“Embarrassed?” Derek took two steps closer to Stiles, his shoulders relaxing but arms staying crossed. “I’m not embarrassed. I trusted you with all of that or I wouldn’t have said it.”  


“Then what the hell are you so pissy about?”  


“Stiles, I opened myself up, was vulnerable with you, and,” Derek sighed and closed his eyes, “I woke up to an empty bed.” A wry smile quirked up the corners of Stiles’ lips.  


“You’re mad because I didn’t stay?” Stiles leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  


“I’m mad because I felt abandoned.” Derek put on a stern face.  


“You wanted cuddles! Just admit it,” Stiles teased. Derek’s eyes flashed blue, though he didn’t seem upset. “Right,” Stiles nodded, “throat ripping. Have at it, big boy.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, exposing his neck. Once he was satisfied with his sassing, he opened his eyes just in time to see Derek wolfed-out and readying to lunge. And he did. Stiles let out a startled scream as Derek pinned him to the bed, all fangs and piercing blue eyes, snarling. Adrenaline poured through Stiles’ veins, his pulse heavy in the back of his head and cheeks tingling as Derek slowly lowered his open mouth to Stiles’ throat. Sharp fangs pressed against Stiles’ skin, and then, Derek laughed. Stiles could have killed him. Relief washed over his entire body and he kneed the wolf in the hip. Derek collapsed on the bed beside Stiles, blue eyes turning hazel again and fangs retracting. “So I’m forgiven?”  


“No, but I’m willing to work on forgiveness.”  


“That, and I didn’t want you wolfing out and murdering me when you woke up to me in your bed the next morning.” Stiles propped himself on an elbow, facing Derek.  


“Stiles, you would not be the first person I’d wake up to after a night of drinking, and you certainly wouldn’t be the most unwelcome person in my bed.” A dark tone settled in his voice on the last few words. Derek’s lips thinned and his eyebrows lowered. Stiles scrambled for a thought to distract Derek from the path his thoughts were wandering down.  


“Everyone went canoeing earlier, you and I should go!” He smacked Derek on the shoulder, a little harder than he’d meant to, and jumped to his feet. Thankfully, the stiffness left Derek’s lips as he considered Stiles’ proposition. Eventually his entire face softened and he joined Stiles on his feet.

Roaring laughter and conversation dulled to a murmur as the pack watched Stiles march past them wordlessly, Derek in tow, towards the dock.  


“They were talking about us,” Derek whispered once they hit the sand near the water.  


“Didn’t need wolf-hearing to deduce that, but thanks.” Stiles picked up two paddles off the dock and tossed one at Derek. They stepped into the boat and Stiles caught a glimpse of Ethan elbowing Danny before they paddled around the corner, Derek steering from the back, completely secluded on calm water.


	4. Chapter 4

The pair eventually stumbled upon the cliffs where Stiles almost drowned. Derek watched the younger man’s shoulders tense as he looked up at the edge.  


“We’re getting out here,” Derek stated. Stiles whirled around, tipping the boat heavily to the left.  


“Like hell we are!”  


“We are. Come on, help me pull this thing over.” Derek gave Stiles one of his trademark my-way-or-the-highway looks and Stiles complied, but not before dramatically throwing his hands in the air and groaning.  


“Why? Why are we stopping here,” Stiles whined as Derek tied the canoe to a tree root jutting out of the rocks. Stiles cautiously eyed the water above where he got trapped.  


“Because neither of us got to enjoy the jump.” Derek removed his shirt and Stiles couldn’t help but rake his eyes over the perfectly sculpted body for just a moment before he realized –  


“You’re going to make me jump again?” Stiles’ grip on the sides of the canoe tightened, his knuckles going white. “Oh _hell_ no.” Derek nodded. “Oh _FUCK_ no! If you think you can get me to even dip a toe in these godforsaken waters you, my friend, buddy, _pal_ , are sorely – **sorely** – mistaken!” Derek dove into the water head-first and surfaced seconds later, gently bobbing up and down, looking at Stiles with puppy dog eyes. “Okay, yes, you’re adorable, but there’s no way I’m joining you. You can go jump to your death if you want, I’m literally never even touching the water here again.”  


“Stiles, come on.” Derek gently rocked the boat and Stiles clenched his jaw.  


“No way. Nope,” Stiles said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis, “you couldn’t _pay_ me enough to do that again.”  


“Would other forms of bribery work?” Derek’s voice was smooth and low, lower than Stiles was used to hearing, and a coy smirk quirked up the corner of his mouth. Stiles licked his lips involuntarily and his heart stuttered. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Stiles groaned loudly and redness bloomed across his cheeks.  


“Don’t even start, you, you… you starter-of-things.” Stiles took his shirt off and tried to get out of the canoe, but stumbled and almost belly-flopped on the way down. Derek’s hand grabbed Stiles’ arm before he even hit the water, pulling him up quickly. Stiles’ heart was already racing just at the memory of being surrounded by water.  


“Breathe,” Derek soothed, “I’ve got you.”

Stiles held on to the same tree that he’d held on to with Lydia, looking over the edge. He tested the muscles and tendons in his ankle, looking down at the red lines and splotches of purple, yellow, and green on his skin.  


“I can go first. You went first last time.” Derek was looking down at the water with his arms crossed. Stiles tried not to get distracted by the way the muscles in his arms were flexed. He scanned the cut on Derek’s side, relieved to see it was almost fully healed.  


“No, it’s okay, I can do this.” Stiles stepped to the edge, hanging his toes over the drop below. He looked straight ahead before letting out a low whine. “I can’t do this.” He stepped back and slouched. “No,” he said sternly, “I can do this.” Stiles took a few large steps back and ran at the edge, stopping right before going over, scraping his feet against the rock.  


“Stiles – ”  


“Nope. Nope, can’t do this.” He rolled his head shoulder to shoulder. “Time to climb back down.” He clapped his hands together and shot a thumb over to where they’d climbed up, eyebrows raised and lips puckered, looking expectantly at Derek.  


“I’m taking the easy way down,” Derek said, gesturing lazily at the water, “I’d like it if you joined me.” Stiles shook his head, defiant, even though he was cautiously stepping up to the edge again. Hes heaved a few steadying breaths, staring into the water, imagining he could see the rocks that snagged his ankle. His pulse raced and a light sweat was breaking on his hairline. Without warning, Derek laced his fingers into Stiles’. “I’ve got you. You can do this.” The world slowed as Stiles’ gaze darted from their joined hands, to Derek’s hazel eyes, to joined hands, to dreamy eyes, over and over. Derek arched an eyebrow. “Three.” They broke eye contact and looked straight ahead. “Two. You’ve got this, Stiles. Breathe.” Stiles took a deep inhale and Derek squeezed his hand. “One.” The wolf leapt off the edge, leaving Stiles no choice but to jump straight out and join him. They landed in the water, hands still clasped together, and Stiles was tugged up by Derek, who somehow wasn’t sinking as far or fast as he was. When they surfaced, Derek was beaming and Stiles let out a loud whoop.  


“You know,” Stiles sputtered, “it’s actually really fun when you don’t almost die!” Both men sighed.  


“What was that you said earlier about ‘literally never touching the water here again’?” Derek smirked. Stiles bared his dull, human teeth and snapped, growling, at Derek’s smug face.  


“Wait,” Stiles smiled widely, “what was that you said earlier about other forms of bribery?” He waggled his eyebrows.  


“Nope.” Derek’s lips formed into a line, though Stiles could tell he was trying to keep a smile at bay. “You told me not to start things, bribery’s off the table.” He swam back towards the canoe.  


“Aw c’mon!” Stiles splashed some water in Derek’s direction. “At least tell me what it was going to be?”  


“Nope!” Derek grabbed the side of the canoe. “Want to jump again or go back?”  


“That depends.”  


“On?” Derek frowned.  


“Whether or not you’re done being a sourwolf and if you’ll actually join in on the group stuff.” Stiles took a preventative stroke away from Derek, knowing he was playing a dangerous game with the name-calling, no matter how affectionate it may be.  


“I’m willing to join _you_ in the group stuff. Does that count?” Derek peeked over his shoulder at Stiles, who looked rather gob-smacked. _‘Oh. With me.’_ silenced all other thoughts in Stiles’ head.  


“Y-yeah,” Stiles finally managed, “that counts.” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “I’m steering this time.” He breast-stroked over to the canoe. Derek scoffed.  


“No, you’re not.”  


“Next time?” Stiles tried to hoist himself up into the boat with no luck.  


“Still no.” Derek practically launched the lanky young man into the canoe, pulling himself up with ease immediately after.  


“Why do I get no say in this?” Stiles slumped in his seat.  


“Because I said so.” Derek untied the rope and gently pushed away from the rocks, dirt crumbling off under his fingertips.  


“You are literally the worst answer-giver in the entire world, did you know that?”  


“And you use the word ‘literally’ much too liberally.” Derek splashed some water at Stiles’ bare back, sprinkling their shirts on the boat floor between them. “Paddle.”


	5. Chapter 5

Another night of campfires and drinking was back in full swing. Derek and Stiles munched happily on the hamburgers the pack had cooked and left for them. Derek grumbled something about ‘just one damn vegetable on this trip’ before practically inhaling the first half of his burger. Stiles tried to convince him to mix mayo and ketchup and dip his fries in it, but that just wasn’t happening.  


“So,” Scott said, pulling Stiles away from the group at the fire, his breath already smelling of rum and Coke, “what’s up with you and Derek?” Scott nodded subtly towards Derek who was busy tidying up plates and condiment bottles still out from dinner.  


“Nothing? Nothing’s up.” Stiles kept a straight face and took a drawn-out sip of beer. He hoped the alcohol would slow his pulse, which would inevitably give away that _something_ was up, even if he didn’t know what that something was.  


“You’re lying to me.” Scott crossed his arms. “Dude, we’re best friends. What aren’t you telling me?”  


“Oh my god,” Stiles chortled, “there’s nothing. It’s nothing.” Scott lowered his lids and tilted his head. “Okay, there’s nothing but like… I don’t know, man, I think we all need to be nicer to Derek. He’s actually a fun guy and he’s really nice if you – ”  


“Be nicer to Derek? We couldn’t _be_ nicer! He’s here with us, isn’t he?”  


“Yeah but,” Stiles sighed, “the only people who’ve spoken to him directly the entire time are me, and Isaac, which didn’t go particularly well if you remember.” Scott looked to his feet. “Yeah, exactly. Just include the guy more, I think that’s all he wants.”  


“I’ll try. Sorry, man.” Scott clapped stiles on the shoulder. “How’d your canoe ride go?”  


“It was good, actually. I expected him to be barking orders the whole time, but it was really nice.” Stiles paused, unsure if he should add the small dose of exposure therapy Derek had provided. He looked past Scott, watching the dark-haired man pour himself a glass of whiskey. “We jumped off the rocks again.”  


“Are you okay?” Scott was looking stiles up and down, searching for a new injury.  


“Yeah, I’m fine.” Stiles laughed and batted Scott’s hand away as the alpha lifted his shirt to inspect his abdomen. “I’m not a china doll, you know.”  


“You’re right.” Scott pulled Stiles in for a back-slapping hug. “I just worry about you.”  


“Worry about yourself,” Stiles snickered, “you’re well on your way to praying to the porcelain gods at this rate.” Scott sauntered off, stumbling slightly on the sand. Stiles joined Derek who had taken up supervising the goings-on from the patio. He gave stiles a confused look.  


“Shouldn’t you be with your friends?” Derek shot a pointed look down at the group on the sand.  


“Shouldn’t you be keeping your promise? That you’d at least join me in group activities.” Stiles elbowed Derek’s arm.  


“I never promised.”  


“Oh my god. Get up, come be a somewhat normal human being and socialize.” Stiles waved at the group and Derek raised his ever-expressive eyebrows. “Okay, normal werewolf person. Can you just… can you? Please?” Derek huffed once and strode down towards the sand. Stiles quietly cheered to himself, pumping his fist in the air.

\----

Everyone was dancing, awkwardly, to music that was just a little too loud and mostly overplayed. Even Derek was bobbing his head to the beat and tapping his toe, which Stiles considered his version of dancing. Lydia and Liam were jumping around hand-in-hand, like siblings, and Kira and Scott elicited urges of ninth-grade ‘get a room’ hollers from Stiles. Danny and Ethan weren’t much better than Kira and Scott, but Stiles loved the way one of them would throw their head back with laughter when the other whispered something private or did an awkward dance move. Isaac was laying on the ground, looking up at the stars, tapping his finger on his glass of rum and coke. Stiles eventually got tired of trying to include himself in the _obviously_ partnered dancing, and collapsed beside Isaac. He realized when it was too late that there was going to be sand all down the back of his shirt and in his hair when he got up. Isaac clearly didn’t care, or was too far gone to think about it, wiggling in the sand and twisting his head, belting out the lyrics. Derek’s toe tapping slowed down and a look of sadness settled deep in his eyes. Scott, as if on cue, called for Derek to join them when the song changed to something less grind-your-partner’s-brains-out.  


“Don’t make me Alpha you into dancing,” Scott teased when Derek shook his head.  


“You couldn’t even if you wanted to.” Derek rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips, as he walked to where Scott and Kira stood with hands outstretched. He took Kira’s small hand in his own, bouncing and twisting with her. Stiles smiled to himself. Ethan and Danny joined the three of them, all bouncing and chanting the lyrics together. Stiles’ lips tightened when Lydia pushed herself between Kira and Derek, laying her hands on his chest. He rested his hands on her hips and they swayed together rhythmically, faces close, breathing each other’s air. Lydia rested her cheek on Derek’s shoulder and nipped at his ear, pulling a ‘oooooh girl get some’ out of Danny. Stiles felt something like anger tensing up his throat. He tried to stand, slipping a few times on the sand, before accepting that this would not be a graceful storm-off to the cottage. His feet pounded on the ground and he wanted to scream.  


“Calm down,” Stiles barked at himself, leaning against the sliding door he’d closed behind him. “It’s stupid. Y’re stupid. Th’r’s nothing, like you told Scott, nothing.” _How could he ever want you?_ His breathing was labored and his cheeks burned branding-iron hot. He touched them, trying to convince himself to cool down. When that didn’t work, he tried to tell himself that the heat was just alcohol-induced – as well as his powerful emotions. “Yeah, t’s just the booze.” He gripped at the hem of his shirt, pulling and twisting, trying to distract himself with something tactile. A tear tickled his collar bone. He hadn’t even noticed it rolling down his numbed cheeks. The anger fizzled out, giving way to a weighty feeling of abjection, and he slouched against the glass. Stiles sobbed into his hands for a few moments before hiding in his room. He crumpled into the bed that he hadn’t even touched until that moment and fell asleep, curled into himself, half-hoping someone would come searching for him and half-glad nobody did. Stiles was only woken for a moment when everyone filed in around two in the morning, an unfamiliar, hearty laugh echoing down the hall. Derek’s. Stiles bit his lower lip and swallowed down the lump in his throat. He let the darkness of the room swallow him and push him back into a restless, broken sleep.

\----

“Good morning,” Stiles yawned. Mostly everyone was already in the living room, sans a pair of muscly men who were no doubt still cuddled up in bed. Ruffling his own hair, he switched on the kettle and set up the coffee machine. He eyed the way Lydia played with her stupid nails, and Derek gently rubbed at his stupid, perfect stubble. They sat on opposite ends of the room, and Lydia was half-involved in a conversation with Isaac, but Stiles couldn’t get the image of Derek’s hands on her out of his head. He tensed his jaw and tightened a fist before exhaling and reaching for the cupboard to pull down all the mugs. He chose the biggest one for himself, and one with a chip on the lip for Lydia. Fuck Lydia. He even dared to give her exactly half a teaspoon of honey for every three-quarter cup of tea. She sipped and didn’t complain, but he felt her stare on him the entire time. When he finally met her gaze, he didn’t see the tea-hating face he was expecting, but instead he saw concern. He gave her a thin-lipped smile, exaggerating the squint in his eyes, before burying his face in the smell and steam of his coffee. He retreated to his bedroom with a bowl of cereal, stating that there was research needing done.  


“Don’t you want to come into town for ice cream,” Lydia called after him.  


“Nah, I’ll pass,” Stiles said, closing the door behind him. Of course, he wanted ice cream, but he had committed to the sulk.

\----

The cottage was achingly quiet once everyone left. Stiles curled his body around the pillow left by the cottage owners, preferring to rest his head on his own that he’d packed. The pillow that he hadn’t needed to fall asleep, for the first time he could remember, that night with Derek. Hot tears soaked his eyelashes and he mindlessly fiddled with the corner of a page. His cheek itched from the drying tears against it, the ones that soaked into his pillow case. He ignored it. Stiles glared daggers at the page he’d been stuck on for fifteen minutes, as if it was somehow to blame for all of this. How could he have thought Derek wanted him? How could he have let himself want _Derek_ of all people? He knew the moment he met Derek that the sexuality he had been questioning was a solid “bisexual”, but the attraction was purely physical. At least, it had been- at first. Stiles thought back with frustration to all the moments before this that he had brushed off, all the butterflies when Derek looked at him with kindness or concern for Stiles’ safety, all the electricity in his skin when they touched. He told himself it had all been nothing, but if that was the case then he was missing ice cream and crying over _nothing_ and that was almost worse. Stiles threw the blanket over his head, groaning loudly, and pretended to nap despite being nowhere near tired.

\----

“Stiles?” Lydia poked her head through the door. Stiles grunted a response. “I have a milkshake for you, if you want it?”  


“I don’t,” Stiles huffed. Lydia arched an eyebrow at the lump under the covers. He grunted again and shot his hand out from under the blanket. Lydia sat on the bed beside the lump and put the milkshake in the disembodied hand, which promptly disappeared back under the covers. Sipping noises ensued and Lydia waited patiently. “Chocolate peanut butter?”  


“Wasn’t my idea,” Lydia said defensively.  


“No, no,” Stiles said through a mouthful of milkshake, “it’s perfect.” Lydia tugged gently on the blanket, pulling it just below Stiles’ nose, and he glared at her.  


“What’s wrong? You’ve been hiding in here all day.”  


“It’s nothing.” Stiles tried to tug on the blanket, but Lydia’s grip was firm and his fingertips were halfway numb from holding onto the ice-cold cup. She pursed her lips. “It’s nothing,” he repeated. A feeling of defeat settled in his chest. It really had been nothing. “Who chose chocolate peanut butter?”  


“I’m not giving you that answer until you give me mine.” Lydia crossed her arms, confident he wouldn’t cover his face again. Stiles groaned and contemplated dumping the milkshake on her head. He rolled over so he wasn’t facing her.  


“It’s just Derek.” Stiles felt tears sting his eyes as he tried to desperately gulp down milkshake through his tightening throat. “I thought, I don’t know what I thought, but I thought _something_ , and then that something turned out to be nothing.”  


“Derek?” Lydia smiled knowingly. “Are you sulking because I danced with him?” Stiles didn’t want his voice to crack so, instead, he blew on his straw and splattered her black tank top with milkshake. “I thought so.” She looked down at the splatter, still smiling. Stiles’ bottom lip quivered.  


“He, I’m nothing to him, Lyds, and I just…”  


“You got jealous.”  


“Yeah, I think so.” Stiles folded the straw between his lips. “I guess I did, yeah. And he doesn’t even think about me, especially not like that.” Lydia sighed, stood, and patted Stiles’ leg through the blanket.  


“Who do you think picked out your milkshake?” With that, she left Stiles alone again. Stiles finished his milkshake, trying to tell himself that it was nothing. It was all nothing, Derek just happened to remember a conversation about peanut butter cups that Stiles, himself, could not remember. 

____

Cautiously, Stiles wandered out to where the group was munching on sliced veggies and fruits, finally, and taking turns swimming and tanning. Stiles settled beside Lydia on the sand, watching Derek’s head bobbing out in the water, alone.  


“Did you know?” He balled the edges of his swim trunks in his fists.  


“Mm?” Her eyes were shut and her cheeks were red from the heat of the sun.  


“Did you know that I…” He bit his tongue and skewed his jaw.  


“That you have a wild crush on Derek Hale?”  


“Can you, maybe, not,” Stiles hissed, his arms flailing. “So _loud_?”  


“I probably knew before you did, Stiles.” She flipped over, baring a lightly sand-speckled back. Stiles reached over and dusted it off for her. “Thanks.”  


“Why would you, y’know, if you knew?” Stiles wrapped his arms around his legs, his knees pulled up under his chin.  


“Why would I what, Stiles? I know you have a wonderful vocabulary. Use it.” She wiggled her toes in the sand.  


“Why would you dance with him and,” Stiles sighed, “and bite his ear and whatever else you did after I left.”  


“Because he’s hot,” Lydia stated, “and I _knew_ either you’d never act on your crush so the least I could do was dance with the guy and give him _some_ action on this trip, **or** that seeing us would be the trigger you needing to do something about it. I was betting on the latter. Did it work?” Stiles tossed sand on her back and stormed off. “I’ll take that as a yes.”  


“Fuck you, Lydia,” Stiles growled, stone-faced, fighting off a snarl and a smile simultaneously.  


“No, fuck _him_ ,” Lydia shouted after Stiles. Stiles’ face broke. The smile won.

Stiles still needed distraction, so he went into full servant-mode. He brought people drinks, sun screened their backs, made sandwiches for lunch, and even helped Kira remove a splinter even though he felt dizzy when a spot of blood got on his finger. Despite his better judgement, he even brought Derek a mojito when he asked.  


“Thanks,” Derek muttered.  


“No problem.” Stiles turned to leave, resisting temptation to squish Derek’s fingers against the dock with the heel of his foot.  


“Stiles,” Derek called, “did you like your milkshake?”  


“Yeah.” Stiles didn’t turn around. “It was good.” He felt Derek’s disappointment roll off him in waves. Stiles refused to acknowledge that he knew Derek picked it, and he knew Derek wouldn’t own up to it. He didn’t have to be a werewolf with emotion-smelling abilities to know he hit a nerve. _Good_.

\----

They made skewers and salad for dinner. Derek was visibly grateful for the vegetables. The wolves ushered everyone inside, smelling the rain an hour and a half before it came. Stiles was trying to be friendly again, sticking near Lydia and giving Derek warm-ish smiles when they made eye contact, which seemed to be more often than he did with anyone else. No matter how pissed he was, Derek was still undeniably beautiful and staring was inevitable. Stiles made hot chocolate for everyone except Derek, who he was still convinced didn’t enjoy a warm, comforting drink. Derek didn’t complain, Stiles assumed he was right.  


“Jenga,” Isaac suggested in a discussion about what to do with the rest of their night.  


“Do you see a Jenga box anywhere?” Danny swept a hand across the living room.  


“Oh!” Kira shot a hand in the air, like she was still in a lecture hall. “What about truth or dare?” A mischievous look was plastered on her face. Liam rolled his eyes.  


“We’re not twelve, Kira, truth or dare -”  


“Actually,” Lydia interjected, nodding, “that sounds really fun. Let’s do that.” Stiles got a sinking feeling in his gut as he locked eyes with Lydia and she winked at him. “You first, Kira. Since it was your idea.”  


"Okay,” Kira chirped, “Liam, the anti-truth-or-dare guy.” Liam crossed his legs and leaned forward. “Truth or dare?”  


“Dare, obviously,” Liam deadpanned.  


“I dare you – ” Kira tapped a finger to her chin “ – to drink whatever concoction Scott and Ethan come up with.” Ethan’s eyes lit up and Scott almost looked shocked. Ethan practically dragged Scott into the kitchen where they mixed together all sorts of spirits and liquors and even a squirt of ketchup, for good measure. A sympathetic, collective groan filled the room when they’d brought out the ketchup bottle and Ethan laughed maniacally while he stirred. Liam looked at the liquid with his nose crinkled.  


“Bottoms up,” Ethan shouted, settling back on the couch next to Danny. Liam plugged his nose and downed the drink, gagging twice before slamming the red cup on the coffee table and throwing his fists in the air triumphantly.  


“Alright,” Liam exclaimed, clapping his hands together “Lydia.”  


“Truth.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder.  


“Smash or pass?”  


“Who?”  


“Everyone in the room.” Liam shrugged. Lydia rolled her eyes before starting to her left, pointing at each person as she went along.  


“Liam, pass. Sorry, you’re just too cute.” She pinched his cheek. “Isaac, smash.” Isaac nodded approvingly. “Derek,” she paused, Stiles held his breath, “pass.” Stiles felt relief and a wave of defensiveness wash over him. “Scott, smash. Kira, smash in another life where I’m into girls. Danny, smash in another life where _you’re_ into girls. And Stiles – ” nobody mentioned the way she skipped Ethan, nobody had to “ – tentative smash? On that note, Stiles…” Lydia arched an eyebrow at him and his breath hitched. “No, Derek. Truth or dare?”  


“Truth,” Derek said, crossing his arms and leaning back in the leather chair.  


“Have you ever had thoughts about another man?” Lydia waited patiently for the answer and Stiles wanted to rip the smug look right off her face. He clenched his jaw, his heart racing. Scott looked at him and mouthed the words _‘you okay?’_ , to which Stiles nodded. Lying. Scott tilted his head, but didn’t push the silent conversation further. Derek smirked.  


“Thoughts about ripping them to shreds, sure.” Derek’s eyes met Stiles’.  


“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Romantically. Tell us,” Lydia demanded. The smirk fell from his face.  


“No.” Derek’s lips thinned and his eyes darted to the floor. Stiles’ stomach dropped. Silence rang in the air for only a moment before Scott jumped out of his seat, almost throwing Kira into Danny.  


“Liar,” Scott countered, shouting, pointing a finger at the man barely two feet from him.  


“Yeah, I heard that too,” Isaac confirmed from his spot on the floor. Ethan nodded.  


“Fuck, fine, alright. Yes. But who hasn’t?” Derek was drilling holes into the ground with his stare, and his fingers were tight enough on his bicep that he might leave bruises, _if_ he could bruise.  


“Definitely not me, ever,” Danny claimed. Ethan pinched Danny’s forearm and the two curled into each other, giggling.  


“See, that wasn’t so hard. Your turn,” Lydia directed.  


“Scott,” Derek snipped, “truth or dare.”  


“Dare.” Scott squeezed Kira’s hand. Derek eyed everyone in the room. A wry half-smile quirked his lips.  


“Give Isaac a lap dance.” Derek’s shoulders relaxed.  


“Oh hell yeah, baby, bring that cute ass over here,” Isaac cheered. Scott ripped his shirt off and pulled Isaac up from the floor, twisted him around, and pushed him down into the now-empty space on the couch beside Kira. Scott gyrated and wiggled his ass in Isaac’s face, making feminine moaning sounds the entire time. Once the two had had their fun, Isaac returned to his place on the floor, laughing.  


“My turn,” Scott announced, “Stiles.”  


“Shit,” Stiles laughed.  


“Truth or dare?”  


“Dare.” Stiles figured a ‘truth’ of any sort was too risky.  


“Damn,” Scott chuckled, “wasn’t expecting that. Um…”  


“I have one,” Ethan announced. Scott waved him over to whisper in his ear. Scott raised an eyebrow in response to whatever Ethan said and nodded slowly.  


“Alright.” Scott nodded again. “Alright, yeah. Stiles, I dare you to kiss somebody, anybody, in this room – ” Stiles leaned over to an already-puckered-up Lydia, knowing there would be no awkwardness, it was the nature of their friendship, “- anyone **except** Lydia or me.” Scott finished. Stiles froze mid-lean and Lydia’s eyes widened. She looked straight into his whiskey brown eyes, wordlessly asking what he was going to do. Stiles leaned back and slapped his hands on his thighs.  


“Can it be a cheek kiss or – ”  


“Nope,” Scott interrupted. Stiles felt like he might faint. _Fuck it._ Stiles stood and faltered his way across the room, dodging the coffee table and nearly trampling on Isaac’s outstretched legs. He grabbed Derek’s face and kissed him. It was rough, almost aggressive, and clumsy. A surprised noise rumbled in Derek’s chest and Stiles was overwhelmed by the smell of him, masculine but sweet, and the sudden feeling of Derek pressing into Stiles’ lips in response. Derek’s stubble grated on Stiles’ chin and he softened the kiss, not quite ready to end it. Eventually, with a sigh, Stiles released Derek’s face and broke away. Stiles turned to Scott, who was looking ever-so-satisfied.  


“Happy?”  


“Very,” Scott practically purred.  


“Kira,” Stiles barked, avoiding anyone’s eyes, “truth or dare.”  


“Dare.”  


“I dare you to, I don’t know, go skinny dip in the lake or whatever.” Stiles dropped to the floor beside Lydia, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. He dared to glance at Derek, who was wide-eyed and covering the bottom half of his face with his hand. Lydia patted his leg reassuringly. Stiles spent the rest of the night avoiding attention and taking the easiest dares he could. Derek took only truths, giving vague answers and staring with blue eyes at anyone he felt might make a mention about Stiles or the kiss or any other men at all.


	6. Chapter 6

Everyone had turned in early. Well, before two am, but that was relatively early compared to the past couple of nights. Stiles was restless, quickly bouncing between too hot, too cold, too vulnerable without covers, and too crowded with them. Even his pillow wasn’t helping. When Derek had made no move to speak to Stiles, Lydia offered to talk to him. Stiles declined and said he just wanted to go to bed. The sleeplessness was worsened by memories of the nogitsune, when the only way he could sleep was medical sedation. He could feel his heart pitter-pattering away and he decided he was _absolutely, under no circumstances, in the mood for a fucking panic attack right now_. He’d gotten better in his year at college, but sometimes the memories would still sneak up and leave him a panicking mess.  


“This is ridiculous,” he whispered to empty air. He needed _out_. Out of the cottage, out of the same house as Derek, possibly even off the property entirely. Stiles slipped his shoes on and tried to stealth his way through the cottage, creaky floorboards and all. Danny left his bedroom and got halfway down the hall, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, before noticing Stiles with his hand hovering over the sliding door handle.  


“What’s going on,” Danny mumbled, scratching his shoulder.  


“Just going for a walk, need some air.”  


“Mm.” Danny nodded. “Want some company?” Stiles thought for a moment. His original intentions were to be completely alone, but the idea of some semi-neutral company was quickly growing on him.  


“Yeah, that’d be nice.” Stiles dropped his hand back to his side.  


“M'kay. Just give me five to get dressed and – ” Danny gestured to the bathroom “ – and, yeah.”

\----

Night air was exactly what Stiles needed, and Danny’s quiet company certainly didn’t hurt. Crickets chirped and a light wind rustled the leaves in the trees. They followed the path to the jumping rocks, deciding it was the safest bet since it was the clearest route and they’d walked it once before.  


“So that thing with Derek,” Danny started.  


“Yeah,” Stiles breathed.  


“Did he say anything after?”  


“Nope. Not a thing. You know, you’d think the guy, being the age that he is, would know how to communicate after something like that. But no, not Derek freakin’ Hale.”  


“Did _you_ try to say anything after?” Danny pushed a branch out of the way, letting Stiles walk in front of him.  


“Well, no, but that’s not the point. I technically made the first move, so – ”  


“You kissed him on a dare – ”  


“I kissed _him_ on a dare to kiss _anyone_. I still stand by it, I made the first move. Ball is in his court.” Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets.  


“He might not see it that way, though.” Danny stayed close behind Stiles, watching for any dangers the spastic young man might not notice. Stiles, for once, didn’t have a response.  


“You know,” Stiles finally snickered, breaking the silence, “you never told me if you thought I was attractive.” Danny rolled his eyes.  


“What I think about you doesn’t matter, Stiles – ”  


“You don’t! So I’m _not_ attractive to gay guys?”  


“Okay, first off,” Danny said, grabbing Stiles by the shoulder and stopping him, “I didn’t say that. Secondly, I don’t speak for all gay guys. Drop the dramatics.”  


“Dramatics is all I do. Dramatics, and sarcasm.” Stiles flashed a fake smile and Danny closed his eyes, shaking his head softly.  


“Do you have feelings for Derek?” Danny searched Stiles’ face.  


“I, I don’t know. Maybe? I think so? I don’t know, this is all so… ugh!” Stiles threw his hands up theatrically. “You know? Just so much ‘ugh’?” Danny nodded, encouraging Stiles. “Well I guess, a little?”  


“Stiles,” Danny warned.  


“Maybe more than a little?” Stiles felt his throat tense again and he flared his nostrils. “I haven’t really gotten a chance to think about it, okay? One day I find him frustrating and broody but I want to bang him like a screen door in a hurricane, and the next day I’m all wounded because he’s dancing with someone else.”  


“Sounds like maybe more than a little. You should really talk to him.”  


“Danny,” Stiles laughed mirthlessly, “shut up.” Danny raised his hands in surrender. Stiles kept walking.  


“I’m just saying what you’re thinking.”  


“Well that sounds super unlikely, since _I_ don’t even know what I’m thinking,” Stiles snarked.  


“Ethan and I totally called this, by the way.”  


“Is that why I caught you two nudging each other before my canoe ride with Derek?” Stiles shot a look over his shoulder.  


“Maybe,” Danny said, dragging the word out.  


“Jerks.”  


“Were we wrong?”  


“No, not exactly. But partially, yes. Because obviously you were only right about one of us,” Stiles sulked.  


“Oh for fuck’s sake, man. We all saw the way he leaned into your kiss,” Danny groaned.  


“You – ” Stiles slowed, “ – you did? I thought I imagined that.” He felt his pulse pick up.  


“No, you didn’t imagine it, you dumbass. Also, you were too busy with your eyes-closed lip-lock to notice the way his hands hovered over your face before dropping to his sides in _sheer fucking bliss_.” Danny shoved Stiles’ shoulder. “And the grumpy asshole made sure you got a milk shake. He even made us all wait for him while he ran back in to get it. **Also** , for the record, he pushed Lydia away after she nibbled his ear but _you_ already had your back turned.”  


“Oh.” It was barely a word, more like tension releasing in the form of a whisper.  


“Yeah _‘oh’_ , you’re damn right _‘oh’_.” Danny let out a sigh. “Just talk to him. He’s obviously too stubborn to do it on his own.”  


“Oh,” Stiles repeated. His mind was calm. Racing thoughts had all stopped in their tracks.  


“So? Are you going to talk to him?” Danny crossed his arms.  


“Um…” Stiles’ mouth hung open, “I… um. Oh.”  


“Well, this has been one hell of a chat the last couple seconds but it’s cold and I’d like to turn back.”  


“Yeah, sure.” Stiles waved to Danny, his feet glued to the ground. “See you back there.”  


“You good on your own?” Danny took a step back towards the cottage.  


“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m fine. I’m just going to go a little farther.”  


“Alright, be safe.” Danny bounced back down the slight incline. Stiles watched until the back of Danny’s grey t-shirt was nothing more than a nearly-invisible blur in the distance.

\----

Stiles could barely see ten feet in front of him. The darkness would have been calming, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t totally alone. He told himself it was just raccoons or the forest around him making _forest-y sounds_ whenever a twig snapped or a footstep crunched in the dirt and stone path behind him. When he heard a mumbled curse after a particularly loud grouping of erratic footsteps, Stiles felt a burning urge to turn around and run back to the cottage except, if he did that, he’d run smack into whoever was following him. So he just kept walking. He felt his way through the dark until he reached an opening, and upon recognizing the faint outline of a sign, realized he must be at the jumping rocks. Stiles paused, listening for the footsteps. A small voice in his head told him to jump, hoping the person in pursuit wouldn’t follow him over the edge. He thought better of it, knowing there was nobody around who would save him if his ankle got snagged again. Stiles didn’t know the way ahead, it was uncharted territory in an unfamiliar place with some potentially unfriendly guests. He decided his best bet was to crouch behind a tree and throw a couple pebbles in the direction he’d been travelling. A tall, dark mass passed him less than a minute later. Stiles’ legs burned from the crouch he was holding but he waited until he could no longer hear the footsteps.  


“Okay, not a werewolf at least,” he whispered to himself, “and definitely not the brightest.” Stiles slipped back onto the path and tiptoed, painfully slow, for what felt like much too long. He was sure any minute now, his stalker would realize they were walking alone and would turn back to find him. Stiles finally broke into a run, bumping into a couple low-hanging branches and karate-chop inducing spider webs along the way. His lungs were on fire and legs felt like they were made of Jell-O by the time he got back to the cottage’s property. He heard engines running and unfamiliar voices on the driveway. Staying on the edge of the woods and against the side of the cottage, he sidled his way to a better view. Three young adults, possibly teenagers, were packing up their vehicles; two of them had torn clothes with blood soaking the edges of the rips. Stiles watched an AR15 fly haphazardly into the back of a pickup truck, landing with a loud thud. A fourth person, a man, jogged out the front door of the cottage, letting the screen door slam behind him.  


“Did you get the alpha?” A spindly girl with red hair stepped away from a car to group up with the man coming from the cottage. The two people behind her followed, leaving their vehicles – and weapons – unsupervised.  


“The big dude? Yeah.” He dropped a syringe on the ground, the glass clinking softly against grass and small pebbles.  


“Which big dude?” The girl crossed her arms. Stiles held his breath and desperately begged his heart to beat quieter. He crouched and crossed the open space before pinning himself against the opposite edge of the cottage property, willing himself to blend into the tree line.  


“The one sleeping all alone. Bulky dude, scary, looks like he’s never cracked a smile in his life?”  


“You complete moron.” The girl smacked her forehead and the two people behind her shook their heads. Stiles waited for the incoming lecture before crawling his way towards the truck, hoping her grating voice would cover up any sounds he made. And, god, was he right about the incoming lecture. She tore a strip off the guy, calling him more names than Stiles would have been able to come up with on a good day. She finished her rant with, “whatever, it shouldn’t make a difference. The gas should kill them anyway.” At those words, Stiles lurched forward and grabbed the gun out of the back of the truck. He turned it on the four of them. They raised their hands as a fifth person, a blond man, ran out from the trail behind the cottage, not looking up.  


“I lost the kid.” He finally raised his head to take in the scene unfolding.  


“I think we found him,” one of the cronies groaned. Stiles tried to calm his shaking hands. He had never shot a gun before but, damn it, if he wasn’t about to do his best to make them think he was a sniper by trade.  


“What did you do to my friends,” Stiles asked, more of a threat than a question.  


“You mean those _monsters_? We gassed ‘em, and injected your alpha.” The girl gave a clichéd bad-guy smirk and the guy that came out from the house tilted his head like, _‘well, the one we thought was the alpha’_. She took a step forward and Stiles aimed the barrel right at her face.  


“Don’t.” His voice didn’t waver. The smile fell from her face. “You,” Stiles snapped, gesturing with his elbow at the guy who’d been following him, “is there wolfsbane in one of those cars?” He kept his eyes and gun trained on the redhead twenty feet in front of him.  


“Yes, well no. Yes, dried stuff.” The guy, who looked no older than Stiles, seemed like his shaky knees were about to buckle any minute.  


“Get it, and put it by the front door.” Stiles clenched his jaw. The guy shuffled between the muzzle of the AR15 and the redhead.  


“You won’t be able to save them, you know,” the girl said in a playful, hushed tone.  


“I’m going to do my best, and if I can’t, you have my word that I will do everything I can to find you. You also have my word that there is a _lot_ I can do to find you.” Stiles flipped off the safety, which he’d secretly been searching for the entire interaction. The girl’s mouth closed and her necklace moved with the rhythm of her quickening heart, the charm dangling over the hollow of her throat. The blonde man put the jar of dried wolfsbane by the front door and joined his group, hands up, head down. Stiles raised the gun, pressed his cheek against the weapon, aimed, and pulled the trigger. He skimmed the side of the girl’s head. “Next time, it won’t be a warning shot.” He twitched his head towards their cars. “Get out of my sight. And this?” He gently jostled the gun. “It’s mine now.” Stiles watched them clamor into their cars, not even bothering to buckle up before tearing out of the driveway and onto the gravel road. Under his breath, he cursed himself. It wasn’t intended to be a warning shot. Once the sound of the cars faded into silence, he flipped the safety on and sprinted inside, grabbing the syringe and wolfsbane on his way past. He put the gun down carefully by the front door, the jar and syringe falling out of his pocket beside it. The entire cottage reeked of chemicals and wolfsbane.


	7. Chapter 7

“Scott? Derek,” Stiles shouted, the fear finally showing itself in his voice. He covered his mouth and nose with his t-shirt.  


“Stiles?” A weak voice came from Lydia’s bedroom. Stiles threw the door open, revealing Isaac wrapped protectively around a passed-out Lydia, and Liam unconscious on the floor, fangs and claws still bared. “Help, please,” Isaac wheezed. Stiles did his best to not step on Liam as he crossed the room to open the window, fighting against the old wood and years of use as he slid it open. He sprinted to the room across the hall, shoving the door open, making a dent in the wall with the handle. Kira was unconscious, face-down on the bed, and Scott was gasping on the floor. Stiles shoved the window open and pulled Scott to his feet.  


“Can you stand?” Stiles shook Scott and his head lolled back. “Scott!” Scott wheezed and shook his head. “Shit. Okay.” Stiles dropped Scott on the bed and ran to the third bedroom, where the door was already opened by a barely-conscious Danny.  


“They got us,” he croaked. “Injected people with… something, gassed the wolves.”  


“Yeah, I heard.” Stiles paced over to the window and strained his arms trying to pry it open. It refused to budge. He spun on his heel, facing Danny. “Can you drag Ethan out to Scott’s room?” Stiles pointed to Ethan who was crumpled on the floor, face and hands bloody. Danny cried out from the effort it took to stand. He met Stiles’ eyes with a steel gaze and nodded. “Good.” Stiles made his way to Derek’s bedroom and tried the handle, finding it stuck. He didn’t hesitate, security deposit be damned, to throw his body into the door over and over until the flimsy wood gave out, letting him stumble into Derek’s room. Derek’s top half was off the bed, splayed fingers against the floor covered in blood. Stiles jumped over the bed to open the window and Derek heaved a shuddering breath.  


“Stiles,” Derek whispered.  


“Yeah, right here, Derek.” Stiles jumped over the bed again, pulling the shirt away from his face, and knelt beside Derek. He pulled Derek’s body into his lap, pushing his sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. “I’m right here.”  


“I’m gunna,” Derek coughed, then spit up black fluid on the floor. He cleared his throat. “I’m gunna die, Stiles.”  


“No, you’re not.” Stiles bit his lower lip and held Derek close. “No, you’re not, I’ve got you.” Derek’s eyes fluttered shut and his jaw went slack. “Derek?” Stiles slapped a stubble-covered cheek. “Derek,” he shouted, “don’t, you can’t, don’t!” Stiles dropped Derek’s back on the floor and sprinted to the kitchen, the world spinning around him and all sounds drowned out by the blood frantically rushing in his ears. Stiles flipped on the kettle and ran to the front door where he’d left the wolfsbane and syringe.  


“Stiles, help,” Danny called, his boyfriend limp in his arms. Stiles rushed past them back towards the kitchen.  


“Can’t right now, Danny. Come on, come on,” Stiles yelled, both at himself and at the boiling kettle. He pulled a drinking glass down from a cupboard and accidentally knocked a mug in the process. It shattered explosively against the counter. “This has to – “ Stiles pulled a matchbox from a drawer beside the fridge “ – this has to work.” He dropped dried wolfsbane into the glass and lit a match. He let the wolfsbane burn and crackle until there were no more glowing embers, begging it to hurry the fuck up with every passing second. He poured the boiled water into the cup and mixed it with the ashes, tapping the outside of the glass with the pads of his fingers until it was cooler before drawing as much as he could into the syringe. “Hold on, Derek! Hold on!” Stiles rushed back to Derek and collapsed to his knees beside him. He searched Derek’s arms and neck for an injection site, finally finding one in a vein on his forearm. Derek’s heartbeat was faint, polar opposite from the pulse so powerful it was shaking stiles’ hands and blurring the edges of his vision with every beat. Stiles pierced Derek’s skin, hoping he’d learned something from his mom’s time in the hospital with endless IVs and blood tests. Derek didn’t move.  


“Stiles,” Danny rasped, standing in the doorway.  


“Not now,” Stiles murmured.  


“What do I do, Scott’s still – ”  


“NOT NOW.” Stiles threw himself over Derek’s chest, pressing his ear over his heart. He heard nothing. “Come on, come on!” His voice was high and tight. He pressed two fingers to Derek’s throat, feeling for a pulse. There was none. All the air rushed out of the room and a throat-ripping scream took its place. Stiles didn’t even realize the scream was his own until he was muffling the tail end of it into Derek’s neck.

\----

Derek’s bare chest was wet with tears by the time Scott stumbled to the door. With the best intentions, he lurched forward towards Derek’s body.  


“No,” Stiles shouted, gripping tighter onto Derek’s shoulders. “Stay away!”  


“Is he – ”  


“Yes,” Stiles snapped. Scott reached a tentative hand towards Derek’s neck to feel for a pulse. Stiles had half a mind to bite his finger off. “Just… just trust me. He’s – ” Stiles choked on a sob.  


“Just let me check,” Scott said, as though soothing a cornered animal. Stiles refused to move as he watched Scott press his fingers to Derek’s pale skin. Scott exhaled loudly and pulled his hand back. “Stiles – ”  


“I know, okay? You don’t have to say it, I already know.” Stiles squeezed his eyes shut.  


“Stiles, there’s a pulse.”  


“What?” Stiles’ eyes flew open.  


“It’s so faint, I could barely feel it, but it’s there.” Scott smiled softly at Stiles, who was still draped over Derek’s chest. Stiles dug his fingers into Derek’s shoulders and laughed hysterically, mouth wide open and eyes wild with shock. Stiles sat back on his heels and pulled Derek’s body back into his lap. Scott checked Derek’s pulse every few minutes, nodding a confirmation to Stiles that it was still there.  


After a while, a groggy Isaac poked his head in the doorway, followed by Liam, then Kira. Colour returned to Derek’s skin.  


Later, Ethan shuffled into the room to thank Stiles, patting him hard on the shoulder. Derek’s breathing became audible again, as well as a heartbeat when Stiles curled down to press his ear to the man’s chest. Lydia slumped against the wall in Derek’s bedroom, leaning her head against the dresser.  


“Hey, um, Stiles?” Danny crouched next to Stiles. “Did – don’t take this the wrong way – did you shoot someone earlier?”  


“Yeah,” Stiles chuckled, “yeah, I did.” Scott’s mouth dropped open.  


“Is there a body we have to – ”  


“No, no. I missed, skimmed the side of her head – ” Stiles drew an invisible line against his head with his finger “ – like, it hit her, but didn’t kill her. Told her it was a warning shot.” He laughed. Scott shook his head slowly, wide-eyed. Ethan nodded approvingly from the door. Derek groaned and Stiles’ breathing stopped. Without warning, Derek turned into Stiles’ chest and coughed black liquid all over his shirt. Stiles cheered loudly and pulled Derek up into a hug. When he rested the older man’s body back down against his knees, cradling his head in the crook of his elbow, Derek looked like he was blinking away sleep. He slowly took in his surroundings. Broken door, the entire pack looking at him, Stiles holding him up.  


“Did I… I thought I… didn’t I die?” Derek reached a trembling hand to gingerly touch Stiles’ neck. Stiles could only shake his head in response.  


“Almost, though,” Danny chimed in. Derek’s fingers lingered against Stiles’ skin, and his eyes took in every detail of the young man’s mole-speckled face.  


“Stiles saved you,” Lydia breathed from against the wall. “He’s pretty good at that.” Subtly, everyone nodded. Kira and Liam both pulled their shoulders in, the weight of what almost happened finally setting in.  


“You need anything?” Stiles smiled down at Derek. “Like a glass of water – ”  


“No,” Derek whispered, grazing a thumb over Stiles’ cheek. “Just…” he trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy around the two of them. Scott left the room, ushering everyone out. He had to help Lydia off the floor. Stiles reached a hand across Derek’s chest, resting his palm against a scruffy cheek, softly stroking with his thumb.  


“Derek?” Stiles frowned when Derek closed his eyes and relaxed in his arms. “Hey!”  


“Mm?” Derek’s eyes flicked open. “Sorry, I’m just drained.” Stiles snickered.  


“Yeah, being on the brink of death can do that to you. Think you can stand?”  


“Yeah, probably.” Derek tensed the muscles in his legs, testing them.  


“Good, let’s get you into bed, big guy.” Stiles hoisted Derek to his feet. With Derek’s arm slung over Stiles’ shoulder, he began leading him towards the broken door.  


“Uh, Stiles, my bed’s that way.” Derek leaned his head back towards the bed.  


“Not tonight, it’s not. You’re delusional if you think I’m leaving you alone for one minute of the next twenty-four hours.” Stiles leaned towards the door. Derek didn’t fight. “They thought you were the alpha, eh?” Derek scoffed and Stiles guided him through the hole in the door and over splinters of wood in the hallway, into the undisturbed darkness of Stiles’ bedroom. Stiles let him collapse onto the bed. He almost said something when Derek pulled Stiles’ favourite pillow under his head, but bit his tongue. Derek was breathing heavily, deeply asleep, before Stiles even got the chance to change out of his stained shirt and pull the blankets over Derek. Stiles slipped into bed beside him, still unsure of what grounds they were on, but he pressed his back against Derek’s, just glad to have him alive and safe. 

Stiles didn’t need his pillow to fall asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

“Coffee,” Ethan grumbled, the sound muffled by Stiles’ bedroom door. “Nobody put on the coffee?” Stiles smirked. He gently brushed two knuckles down Derek’s arm, who was still fast asleep on his back.  


“Can _somebody_ please put on the coffee,” Danny called.  


“And make a pot of tea,” Lydia added. Stiles shook his head, knowing they were probably standing right outside his door waiting for him to hear. He dared to graze his fingertips over Derek’s rising and falling chest. The electricity that ran through his fingers, up his arm, and into his spine only served to encourage him. Stiles reached a tentative hand up to Derek’s face, flattening his palm against Derek’s cheek. Derek turned his head, pressing his cheek into Stiles’ hand. A high sound vibrated in Stiles’ throat and he bit his bottom lip to keep its volume in check.  


“Fucking,” Ethan shouted, “coffee!” With a sigh, and one quick stroke of his thumb across a sharp cheekbone, Stiles pulled away and rolled out of bed.  


“Dude,” Stiles hissed through his teeth, cracking the door open, “can you maybe quiet down? Just a little? Like, five decibels.” Ethan, who _had_ been standing suspiciously close to the bedroom door, raised his hands in surrender, but didn’t say another word. Stiles shut the door behind him as he stepped into the hallway, twisting the handle so it wouldn’t click too loud. Kira gave him a smile from her spot on the couch, cuddled against Scott who had a cold cloth pressed to the back of his neck. Isaac waved, laying on the floor, balancing a bottle of painkillers on his forehead.  


“Tea?” Lydia padded up to Stiles.  


“Yes, tea and coffee. Both comin’ up.” Stiles filled the kettle and prepped the coffee machine. A collective sigh of relief rushed through the room. Lydia gave him a tight hug from behind. “What would you guys even do without me?”  


“Die, probably,” Lydia said bluntly. Stiles froze for a moment before turning and hugging her tight. She hadn’t been in danger, technically. They only knocked her and Danny out, and their attempt with Danny wasn’t even successful, but she was the one within arms’ reach. He made everyone’s hot drinks perfectly, even bringing a bag of biscottis over to the coffee table that they’d all agreed to eat on the last morning. Nobody argued, even though they still had one more morning to go.  


“Everyone good?” Stiles scanned the room, the pack nodded. He made himself a coffee with just a little too much sugar and a splash of milk. He took the mug in both hands. 

“Alright, I’m gunna go back to…” he tilted his head towards his room, “yeah.” He couldn’t say for sure, but he thought Danny tapped Ethan’s foot with his own, and Lydia smiled. When he clicked the door open, Derek woke with a jolt and leapt out of bed, throwing the blankets completely off the mattress. Derek’s fangs and claws were on show, and his eyes burned blue. Stiles stood frozen with his back against the door.  


“Sorry,” Derek sighed. His fangs and claws retracted, and his eyes faded back to the hazel Stiles had grown so fond of.  


“It happens.” Stiles swallowed hard. Derek looked wounded and Stiles realized Derek could probably smell the fear he’d unintentionally created. Stiles moved to his side of the bed, sitting with his back against the wall. He patted the mattress beside him, sipping on the coffee. Derek looked at the bed, considering it, before sitting next to Stiles, legs parallel but not touching.  


“Thank you,” Derek muttered.  


“For what,” Stiles said into his mug. Derek flicked his gaze to Stiles and Stiles grinned. “Nothing to thank me for.” He dared to reach over and squeeze Derek’s bare shoulder. Derek let out a slow breath. They sat in silence while Stiles sipped slowly at his coffee, Derek rested his head back against the wall with eyes closed, listening to conversations happening in the living room. Stiles almost jumped when Derek finally spoke up.  


“So you’re really not leaving me alone today?”  


“Nope.” Stiles shook his head.  


“Not even for a minute?”  


“Not even one _second_."

“You sure?” Derek quirked a barely-noticeable smirk.  


“Positive,” Stiles confirmed.  


“Alright,” Derek got up off the bed, “because I’m dying for a shower.” Stiles’ eyes snapped wide open and he almost choked on his last sip of coffee. Derek pulled a towel out of the open closet, his smirk growing at the sight of Stiles’ stunned expression. “Unless you’d rather leave me alone for ten minutes.”  


“Nope.” Stiles put the mug on the bed side table, almost missing, and grabbed his own towel from the closet. “Not for one second.” His cheeks and ears were glowing red, and he was sure Derek could hear that his heart was threatening to leap out of his chest, but the way Derek gestured for Stiles to follow was more than enough encouragement. Derek walked through the hall and into the washroom with his head held high, ignoring the sudden hush when the pack saw Stiles following him in. Stiles, on the other hand, flashed an embarrassing smile and brief wave before shutting – and locking – the door behind them. Derek draped his towel over the bar on the wall and turned on the shower, warming it up.  


“You can leave, if you want.” Derek looped his thumbs in the waistband of his pajama pants. Stiles clutched his towel to his chest and shook his head. Derek shrugged and dropped his pants before folding them neatly on the counter. He was clearly not ashamed of the view he had to offer, which Stiles felt made sense, since he had _quite a lot_ to offer. “Come on,” Derek said, nodding at Stiles’ body, “let’s not waste water.” Stiles made a squawking sound in the back of his throat, mouth hanging open.  


“That’s just – ” Stiles waved a hand up and down Derek’s bare body, “ – that’s just not _fair_!” Derek chuckled softly and took two steps towards Stiles, backing him up against the door. He pulled the towel from Stiles’ grip and draped it over the bar next to his own.  


“Shirt,” Derek directed. Stiles complied, throwing his shirt carelessly on the counter. “Good job. I’m sure you can figure out how to get undressed the rest of the way. See you in there.” Derek winked, _fucking_ **winked** , before stepping into the shower and drawing the curtain closed behind him. Stiles fumbled out of his pants and boxers, throwing them as neatly as he had his shirt – which is to say ‘not at all’ – into a pile in the sink. 

Stiles almost backed out, he almost wrapped the towel around his waist and ran out the door, but the way Derek looked when he poked his head out from behind the curtain to check that Stiles was still there? Black hair plastered against his forehead, jaw relaxed from the heat of the water, and eyes just a little wide with worry – how could Stiles possibly leave?  


“Coming, coming.” Stiles tried to subtly cover himself with dangling arms and hands, not wanting his insecurity to be too blatant. Derek moved out of the stream and Stiles stepped into the steaming hot water, keeping his back turned. He felt cold plastic tap his shoulder and turned, just a little, to see Derek handing him a shampoo bottle.  


“As much as I’d love to spend all day in here with you, I can’t.” Derek gently tapped Stiles’ shoulder with the bottle again, lathering his hair with his free hand. Stiles shampooed his own hair, suddenly struggling to remember how to make suds or how he normally stood in the shower. “Stiles,” Derek laughed, seeing the tension in Stiles’ posture, “relax. Just… shower with me. This isn’t a sexual thing.” He nudged Stiles out of the way, letting the water and lather run down his skin. Stiles couldn’t help but admire the view. “I mean, it doesn’t _have_ to be a sexual thing.” Stiles gulped. “But it could be.” _Holy god._  


“You know, when I kissed you?” Stiles pushed his way back under the showerhead.  


“Mm?” Derek squeezed a conditioner bottle into his hand and passed it to Stiles.  


“That wasn’t how I’d really wanted to kiss you for the first time.”  


“There was a way you wanted to kiss me the first time?” Derek worked the conditioner into his hair.  


“Yeah, I’d always pictured it being in a forest or something, maybe after winning a fight, all hyped up and adrenaline pumping, you know?” Stiles conditioned his hair and smiled at Derek, who happened to be watching him intently. Stiles noticed Derek wasn’t staring as his body, but watching his face.  


“You’ve pictured it?” Derek gently placed a guiding hand on Stiles’ shoulder, trading places to rinse the conditioner out.  


“Yeah,” Stiles laughed, “never admitted it to myself though. Oh god… never admitted it to anyone else either. Well this is sufficiently humiliating, I’m just going to shut up for the rest of eternity now and - ”  


“I have too.”  


“You – what? Pardon you?” Stiles barely flinched at the sting of conditioner-infused water getting in his eye. Derek subtly raised his eyebrows. “You, an absolute fucking ten-out-of-ten, have pictured kissing _me_?” Derek smiled and nodded slowly as Stiles swapped places with him to rinse out his own conditioner. “Well, wow, oh, wow, okay. Well then. How did _you_ picture it?” Derek shrugged.  


“It was never a specific scene,” Derek said, “it was more the way I’d do it.”  


“How’d you picture doing it, then?”  


“Well,” Derek sighed, “something like – ” he stepped into Stiles’ space and wrapped one arm around his waist, pressing their bodies together, and cupped Stiles jaw with his right hand, stroking his cheek with a gentle thumb, “ – this, I guess.” Hazel eyes searched Stiles’ face, their noses barely touching, breathing each other’s air. Stiles rested his hands softly on Derek’s chest.  


“And then?” Stiles froze.  


“And then.” Derek pressed his lips to Stiles’ and moved his right hand to the back of the younger man’s neck. Stiles melted into Derek, overwhelmed by the tenderness of it all. He’d always pictured Derek to be an aggressive type, which he was totally into, but this. _This_. The arm around his waist tightened as Stiles’ knees threatened to give out under him. Derek deepened the kiss and Stiles forgot how to breathe. They pulled away for just a moment before Stiles’ hand shot up to the back of Derek’s head, fingers weaving in his soaked hair.  


“Nuh uh,” Stiles gasped, “more.” Derek fell back into the kiss, this time with more force, letting his hands wander just a little over Stiles’ welcoming skin. Derek swallowed Stiles’ moan and Stiles thought that, if this is what it meant to be breathless, he wasn’t sure he’d ever want air to fill his lungs again. He leaned back against the cool tiles and Derek pressed their bodies flush together. Stiles dared to take a tight fistful of Derek’s black hair and tug gently. In response, Derek nipped at Stiles’ lower lip and Stiles instinctively rolled his hips forward, giving himself just a hint of friction where he wanted – needed – it most. With a ragged breath, Derek pulled away. Stiles almost whined at the sudden absence of lips against his own. Derek took Stiles’ face in both his hands, pressing the younger man’s shoulders against the wall with his forearms.  


“You are,” Derek laughed softly, “dangerous.” Stiles couldn’t help but smile coyly.  


“How so?”  


“I’m trying to maintain my composure, be respectful and take things at a healthy pace but – ” Derek searched Stiles’ eyes “ – that mouth of yours.” Stiles took Derek’s hands in his own, suddenly confident with the power he held.  


“If just kissing does that to you – ” Stiles reached their arms above his head and pressed the backs of his hands to the wet tile “ – imagine what else _this mouth of mine could do_.” A growl rumbled in Derek’s throat and Stiles planted a cautious kiss on his lips. Derek’s gaze became something dark and he grabbed Stiles’ wrists, pinning him to the wall. Stiles thought he should be scared but, instead, desire snaked its way up his spine. Derek dove into the crook of Stiles’ neck and bit him, sucking at the skin. Stiles choked down the moan threatening to escape. “Oh god, Derek, please…” He felt Derek grin against his skin.  


“I’m not going to fuck you, Stiles. Not right now, not like this.” With that, Derek gave him one more breath-stealing kiss and released his wrists. “Pass the soap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of went with the more comfortable and playful Derek that we see in season 4 :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up - this is the one with smut.

The pack watched them, almost obsessively, for hours after they emerged from their shower. Every lingering touch or meaningful look between Stiles and Derek sent a wave of stifled whispers through wolves, kitsunes, and humans alike. Seriously, Stiles was starting to wonder if there had been a spell cast over the pack that made them revert to the maturity of thirteen-year-olds. Though Stiles was sure he’d successfully scared off the group of hunters, he kept the AR15 around him at all times. There’d been many discussions of how the hunters found them, how they _knew_ , but nobody could settle on a single theory. It was Ethan that broke out the first drink, during a heated discussion between Liam and Isaac about whether it was more beneficial to be tall and fast or small and ‘packed with power’. Isaac said that what Liam was mistaking for power was simply uncontrolled anger and that, of course, started a little scuffle. All in good fun, of course, but Derek rolled his eyes and Stiles felt that maybe joining Ethan in grabbing a drink wasn’t the worst decision in the world.  


“So?” Lydia eyed Stiles expectantly. She clinked her cooler bottle against the one she brought to him before taking a sip.  


“So, what?”  


“Did you have sex with him?”  


“Oh my g – ” Stiles gaped and waved a hand near her face before taking a long swig of the too-sugary drink “ – you can’t just ask that!”  


“Well, I can, since I just did.” She shrugged.  


“No,” Stiles hissed, “no I didn’t.”  


“Shame,” Lydia purred. She eyed Derek who was sitting on the edge of the dock, feet dangling in the water. “I think you would’ve enjoyed it.”  


“Well, Lyds, I think I would’ve enjoyed it too, but he’s being a gentleman and taking his time or something.” He clutched the bottle to his chest and let his gaze linger on the way the sunset caught the curve of Derek’s back.  


“How frustrating.”  


“Tell me about it,” Stiles breathed.

\----

The booze ran out and wore off long before it lowered inhibitions and created situations that would call for awkward next-mornings, though Isaac and Lydia seemed cozy enough without it anyway. Derek offered to help Stiles clean up the mess from dinner, and Stiles was happy enough to accept even though the work was barely enough to keep one person busy.  


“I heard you talking to Lydia,” Derek said flatly. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. “You’re right, I am trying to be a gentleman.”  


“At least I was right, you know I like being right – ”  


“You were right about the other thing too.” Derek stepped to Stiles, their faces less than a foot apart. “You would have enjoyed it.” Stiles involuntarily bit his bottom lip and Derek trailed a finger along his jawline, angling Stiles’ chin up, and kissed him so softly that Stiles wasn’t fully convinced they’d even made contact. The glass door slid open.  


“Hey, lovebirds,” Danny called to them, “we’re making s’mores. Come back out, dishes can wait.” Stiles released the breath he’d been holding.  


“Are you – ” Stiles laid a careful finger on Derek’s chest “ – allowed to eat chocolate?” A smirk danced at the corner of his mouth. Derek rolled his eyes and turned to leave. 

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get sick!”  


“Dog jokes, Stiles? Really? Weak.” Derek lazily flapped a hand, gesturing for Stiles to follow. Grinning still, Stiles bounced after him through the sliding door.  


“I thought it was an important question to ask,” Stiles said, faux defensive. He slipped his arm into the crook of Derek’s elbow and Derek gave him a threatening wide-eyed look. It gave Stiles flashbacks of one of their very first encounters, in Stiles’ jeep when he’d put his hand on the Derek’s shoulder to keep him from rushing into the police station. “Get over it, sourwolf.”  


“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Derek warned.  


“It’s one I’m willing to play if there’s a chance I’ll win.” Stiles pulled his body closer as they walked and Derek seemed to relax into his touch. They separated moments before the pack caught sight of them and settled into matching chairs, Lydia on Stiles’ left and Danny on Derek’s right.  


“Here,” Lydia said, “I made one for you.” She passed a s’more to Stiles.  


“You made one? For me?” Stiles hesitantly took the treat from her.  


“Yeah,” she scoffed, shaking her head, “why wouldn’t I?”  


“Well that’s not usually how ‘us’ goes, usually I make or do things for you and you – ”  


“Stiles, shut up and eat it. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” Lydia bumped her shoulder against his. It dawned on him that it was a thank-you present. _‘Thank you for saving the pack’_. He turned the treat over in his hand, contemplating it, before happily devouring it in three bites. Derek roasted a marshmallow over the crackling fire, staring straight into the flames. Stiles noticed the miniscule tense-and-release of his jaw. He gingerly touched the man’s knee. Derek sharply inhaled and shook his head.  


“You good?” Stiles momentarily tightened his grip.  


“Yeah,” Derek said hesitantly, like there was a ‘but’ that he wasn’t ready to speak. “Yeah, fine.” He cleared his throat and nodded at the fire. It took Stiles a minute, but he got it. “Someone pass me a graham cracker and chocolate,” he commanded of the pack. Then, to Stiles, “And, no, the chocolate will not make me sick.” Isaac and Scott groaned.  


“Really?” Scott reached the box of graham crackers over to Derek. “Tell me you didn’t make a dog joke.”  


“I promised I’d never lie to you, dude,” Stiles chuckled, “so I’m not going to tell you that.”

\----

Everyone had fallen asleep long ago, but Stiles just couldn’t seem to catch a wave of exhaustion powerful enough to loosen his grip on the AR15. He sat on his bed with his back pressed against the wall. His eyes were dry and lids were heavy, but letting his guard down was the last thing he was willing to do. Leaving his friends vulnerable was a mistake he wouldn’t make a second time. A creaking floorboard in the hallway almost made him jump out of his skin. A softer footstep made him steel himself and raise the gun, thumb resting on the safety. He watched down the sight as someone twisted the handle and began to push their way in, and he adjusted so the muzzle was aimed at about average-person-head-height. The door stopped moving when he flicked the safety to ‘fire’.  


“Please don’t.” Derek slowly waved a hand from behind the door. He stepped the rest of his body into the room and Stiles switched the safety back on, relaxing back against the wall. Stiles hadn’t even realized he was still watching through the sight when Derek put his hands up and gave Stiles a wary look.  


“Oh – ” Stiles rested the gun against the wall, “ – sorry. Got a little caught up in the moment.”  


“Clearly.” Derek nodded at the bed. “May I?”  


“Yeah, sure!” Stiles shuffled over, making room for Derek, who promptly dropped down onto the bed beside him. Derek was wearing nothing but track pants and Stiles was willing to bet nothing underneath. His hands twitched at the desire to find out. He shook his head, thinking better of it, and drummed his fingers against his thighs, trying to occupy his itching hands. “What are you still doing up?”  


“Don’t have much of a door, so that makes sleeping a bit of a challenge.”  


“Oh, yeah that’d do it – ”  


“And I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” The corner of Derek’s mouth ticked up at the sound of a skip in Stiles’ heartbeat. Stiles was _definitely_ not used to this open, willing-to-communicate version of Derek.  


“About me, or about what else _this mouth of mine_ might be able to do,” Stiles chuckled softly. A joke was all he could muster.  


“Mostly the former, some of the latter.” Derek shrugged and Stiles almost choked on his laugh. “I wasn’t going to mention it, though. Gentleman and whatnot.” Adrenaline rushed Stiles’ body, making his head spin, and he gingerly trailed a thumb along Derek’s jaw.  


“Yeah, well,” Stiles breathed, “I’ve never been a huge fan of gentlemen.” His heart pounded at his ribcage and he almost pulled his hand away. He had never been with a man, never even flirted with one except Derek, and by the way Derek’s eyes fluttered shut and he sighed, Stiles was sure he was doing it _wrong_. At least, he _was_ certain of it until Derek’s hand flew up to the back of Stiles’ neck and pulled him down into a heated kiss. Stiles didn’t hesitate to throw his leg over Derek’s hips to straddle him, steadying himself with his hands against strong shoulders. Derek’s fingers skimmed down Stiles’ sides until he reached the hem of his shirt. Stiles sat back, feeling Derek’s bulge against his ass, letting the man pull his shirt over his head.  


“Beautiful,” Derek muttered, dragging his palms up Stiles’ chest. Stiles sighed into the touch. Derek sat up, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist, pressing closed-mouth kisses in a trail from Stiles’ navel up to his collar bone. Teeth dug into Stiles’ neck and he damn near collapsed, letting out a soft moan, dropping his forehead to Derek’s shoulder. Stiles thought he might just fall over the edge at the feeling of Derek gripping his erection through his pajamas.  


“Derek,” Stiles choked out.  


“Mm?” Derek was covering Stiles’ skin in languid kisses and marking it with redness from his stubble.  


“Have you ever – ah – ” Stiles’ breath hitched when Derek’s grip tightened. “Have you ever done this before?”  


“Yeah.” Derek’s breath was hot against his skin and _need_ coiled in Stiles’ belly.  


“You ever been with a guy?”  


“Two.” Derek pulled away to look at Stiles’ face. “Have you?” Stiles shook his head ‘no’. Derek smiled. “Do you want to?” He raised his eyebrows, trying to maintain eye contact despite the momentary distraction of Stiles’ pink lips.  


“Yeah,” Stiles breathed, “god yes.” Derek dropped whatever restraint he was demonstrating. He rolled Stiles off him, pressing the young man into the mattress, wedging his hips between Stiles’ legs. Stiles lifted his hips up when Derek gently tugged at the waistband of his pants, happy to oblige. With much more grace than Stiles could have ever managed on his own, Derek stripped him completely. A hungry look settled deep in Derek’s eyes as he took in the sight of Stiles, and Stiles half expected Derek to wolf-out and eat him whole. Instead, Derek took hold of Stiles’ shaft and licked a stripe up from the base, wrapping his lips around the head. Waves of pleasure rushed through his spine as Derek took the rest of him into his mouth, and Stiles thought for a moment he’d died and gone to heaven as he watched Derek’s head bob up and down. A gentle scrape of teeth sent electricity through Stiles and he bucked his hips forward. “Shit, sorry, Derek, I – ” He groaned when Derek dragged his mouth off with the most obscene ‘pop’ he’d ever heard in his life.  


“Don’t cum yet,” Derek growled. He crawled off the bed backwards, planting a kiss on Stiles’ thigh along the way. “Stay there.” He opened the door and raked his gaze over Stiles one last time, whispering “beautiful” before slipping into the hallway. Derek returned moments later with a bottle of lube and placed it on the bed side table. Stiles swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit on the edge and ran his thumbs along Derek’s hipbones, looking up at him, gently pushing his track pants down an inch.  


“I want to – can I – ” Stiles licked his lips, eyes dragging along the outline of Derek’s dick.  


“Yeah.” Derek ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “Yeah,” he repeated before pushing down his track pants just enough for his erection to spring free. Stiles had been right, Derek was _totally_ going commando. He wrapped his long fingers around the base and pushed his lips open on the head. It was warmer than he had expected, and velvety soft. Stiles moaned quietly as he took more into his mouth, smooth skin sliding against his tongue and lips. Derek tangled his fingers in Stiles’ hair and made a sound that Stiles could only interpret as encouragement. He hollowed his cheeks as he pulled back and Derek let out a choked-off curse. His grip tightened in Stiles’ hair as Stiles repeated the motions, careful with his teeth. Spurred on by shuddering breaths and half-formed words, Stiles picked up speed and placed his free hand on Derek’s thigh. When the muscles under Stiles’ palm started to twitch, Derek guided Stiles’ mouth off by his hair. “Fuck, Stiles, I – god – that was close.” Derek chuckled softly and bent down to kiss Stiles, chasing the taste of himself.  


“Derek, please,” Stiles begged weakly. Derek nodded and guided Stiles down onto his back, grabbing the lube off the bed side table and kicking his pants off the rest of the way, not once breaking their kiss as he slicked up his fingers. Stiles moaned into Derek’s lips as a finger pressed into his hole. Derek crooked his finger and Stiles’ back arched violently. “Holy – ”  


“Good?” Derek stopped.  


“Yes, yes,” Stiles gasped, nipping at Derek’s jaw, “don’t stop. More.” Derek obliged, adding a second finger. Stiles relaxed into it a little, surprised at how much he enjoyed the feeling of being stretched and so _full_. His breath caught in his chest when Derek added a third finger, and he reached down to lazily stroke his cock, leaking precum on his belly.  


“Want you,” Derek rumbled against Stiles’ lips.  


“Then take me.” It was barely a whisper. He whined softly at the sudden withdrawal of Derek’s fingers.  


“You sure?” Derek was already settling between Stiles’ thighs, lubing himself up. Stiles nodded eagerly and Derek brought one of Stiles’ legs over his shoulder. Stiles’ heart raced, feeling the head of Derek’s cock pressing against his hole, and whimpered when he pushed inside. The stretch was incredible, despite the burn of it; a feeling three fingers couldn’t even hold a candle to. He tried to move down, the only thought in his head repeating itself. _More, more, more!_ Derek rested a hand on Stiles’ hip, stilling him. “Slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”  


“Please, Derek – ”  


“Shh – ” Derek gently stroked a thumb along Stiles’ bottom lip “ – I’ll give you exactly what you need. Trust me.” Stiles took the thumb into his mouth and suckled it, closing his eyes and reveling in the sensation of being filled up inch by achingly slow inch. Derek bottomed out and Stiles dug his fingers into Derek’s shoulders, hissing through his teeth. With the same maddening slowness, Derek pulled back and Stiles relaxed, the burn of the stretch turning into a magnificent ache. Derek pushed back in with more force, picking up speed with each thrust, rendering Stiles thoughtless with an unwavering, merciless rhythm. It was all Stiles could do not to shout Derek’s names to the heavens as he hit that sweet spot. _Every. Single. Time._ Derek was relentless, fucking Stiles into the mattress, kissing him vehemently and swallowing every moan, whimper, and whisper of his name. He slowed a moment when Stiles stilled, his jaw went slack, and his eyes rolled back as thick ribbons of white shot onto his belly, only picking up the pace again to chase his own pleasure. Derek came quickly after, panting against the sweat-dampened skin of Stiles’ neck, shaking with the aftershocks.  


“Whoa.” Stiles carded his fingers through Derek’s hair, Staring blankly at the ceiling. Derek kissed Stiles’ collar bone and propped himself up on his elbow.  


“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”  


“Yeah,” Stiles sighed. Panic flickered across Derek’s face. “No! No, no, no!” Stiles grabbed Derek’s cheeks and kissed his nose. “I meant ‘yeah I’m alright’, not ‘yeah you hurt me’.” Derek relaxed and dropped his forehead onto Stiles’ chest momentarily before rolling off to his side of the bed. He grabbed the shirt he’d thrown onto the floor and wiped the mess off Stiles’ belly. When Derek settled again, Stiles itched to ask a question that would, inevitably, make the moment awkward. His specialty, of course.  


“You’re thinking.” Derek creased his brow as he stroked Stiles’ cheek lazily with a knuckle. Stiles huffed.  


“Was I okay?” Stiles shut his eyes tight and waited for the incoming ‘no, horrible’.  


“You suck cock like you were born for it.” Derek’s voice was smooth as butter. Stiles’ eyes snapped open and Derek grazed his thumb across Stiles’ upper lip. Stiles playfully flicked his tongue out at it. “You were so much more,” Derek sighed, searching for the words, and Stiles’ throat tightened at the pause, “willing to hand over control than I was expecting.” Derek saw the worry spill across Stiles’ face. “Not that it’s a bad thing, not at all. It _really_ worked for me, if I’m being honest. You’re just usually so much more vocal about what you want and how you want it, I expected it to translate into – ” Derek brushed fingertips down Stiles’ chest and abs “ – that.” Stiles thought on it before his cheeks and ear tips turned pink.  


“It was nice to hand over control, nice to have someone _take care_ of _me_ for once.” Stiles didn’t have a chance to even close his eyes when Derek darted in for a chaste kiss, then flew out of bed in one fluid movement, a stern look on his face.  


“Stay here.” Derek padded out of the room. Stiles’ heart raced and he tried to peer through the darkness of the hallway, even though he knew all he’d see was Derek’s shattered door and abandoned bed. What had he done? Was he not supposed to let Derek take the reins? Had he been selfish? His thoughts slowed when he heard the kettle boiling and mugs softly clinking together. Minutes later Derek returned holding two mugs and shut the door with his foot. He jutted his chin towards the far side of the bed and Stiles barely noticed, frozen by the sight of Derek’s nakedness. _I just fucked that. I just got fucked by that. What is my life? Amazing._ “Stiles, move over.” Stiles shook his head and scrambled against the smooth sheets, finally making his way to the other side of the bed. Derek sat down gracefully beside him, not spilling whatever was in the mugs, and handed one to Stiles.  


“You made me hot chocolate?” Stiles sipped at the drink and exhaled through his nose, holding the perfectly chocolatey liquid in his mouth. Stiles made a mental note that _Derek freakin’ Hale makes an amazing hot chocolate_.  


“You’ve been making drinks for everyone this entire trip.” Derek sipped at his mug. “You deserve to be taken care of.” An ache bloomed in Stiles’ throat. He quietly drank his hot chocolate, unable to find words for once. Finally, he turned to Derek and eyed the mug he was holding.  


“I didn’t think you liked hot drinks. I haven’t made you any this entire trip.”  


“You were busy with everyone else’s, and I’m perfectly capable of making my own.” Derek set his empty mug on the bedside table and Stiles did the same.  


“I feel bad now – ”  


“Don’t.”  


“Too late! I’ve been making everyone drinks this entire trip and, oh my god, I don’t even know how you take your coffee and I never even asked, I just assumed – ”  


“Shut up,” Derek breathed before silencing Stiles with a kiss. “C’mon, turn over.” Stiles cocked an eyebrow. “I’m going to cuddle you, not fuck you again.” Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles obeyed and rolled on his side, facing the wall. Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles’ waist and pulled him close. Stiles almost whimpered at the comforting heat against his back, feeling Derek’s chest rising and falling with each calm breath. He thought he might cry, it felt so right and _perfect_. A jarring thought shocked him out of peace.  


“Ever?”  


“Mm?” Derek’s lips were pressed to Stiles’ shoulder, hot puffs of breath from his nose dancing across Stiles’ skin.  


“You said you’re not going to fuck me again. Ever? Was this a one-time thing?” Stiles balled the corner of his pillow in a fist. Derek nuzzled in closer against his neck.  


“I’d rather it not be a one-time thing, but if that’s what you want?”  


“No!” Stiles tried to flail and turn to face Derek. Derek held him tighter, stilling him. “That’s not what I want. I do **not** want that. I want the exact _opposite_ of that.” Derek’s thumb stroked Stiles’ skin.  


“Then I’d be happy to fuck you again. Regularly,” Derek mumbled. Stiles could hear Derek readying to let sleep take him. He decided to try his luck.  


“And maybe take me on a date?” He bit his bottom lip.  


“Stiles,” Derek sighed. Stiles cringed. “I will wine and dine you until you’re sick of it, and then I’ll spend nights at home in pj’s with you, watching those stupid movies you love so much.”  


“Hey,” Stiles snapped, “Marvel is not stupid!” And then it hit him. “Wait, are you saying we could be a _thing_? Like a you and me _thing_? An _‘us’_ thing?” Derek nodded. “Can we officially be a thing now?” It was barely audible, but Derek nodded again. Stiles whispered an ‘ohmygod’ and Derek squeezed around his waist before relaxing and passing out. Stiles fell asleep to the thought of waking up to Derek, going on dates with Derek, introducing him to people as ‘Derek, my boyfriend’. 

\----

“Coffee?” Ethan’s meek voice came through Stiles’ bedroom door. Derek lifted a paperback book off the bedside table that Stiles had been half-heartedly flipping through and whipped it at the door.  


“Make your own coffee,” Derek rasped. Stiles smiled into Derek’s chest and ghosted his fingertips over the hair on Derek’s chest before pressing his palm to Derek’s cheek and turning his head for a slow, closed-mouth kiss. Derek hummed his pleasure and approval. “For the record, half a teaspoon of sugar. Flat.” Stiles nodded, listening to the glass of the coffee pot setting into the heating element.  


“Oh my god. They know exactly what we did,” Stiles groaned. Derek raised his eyebrows above his still-closed lids and tilted his head. “Fucking werewolf hearing, man.”  


“Not the end of the world. Pretty sure Danny and Ethan saw it coming a mile away, and Scott’s oblivious enough – ”  


“He might’ve mistaken it for us fighting.” Stiles laughed at the thought of Scott’s concerned eyes, asking if everything was okay between him and Derek. “Coffee?” Derek made a move to get up and Stiles flattened him back on the bed, palm against his chest. He knew Derek had let him. Werewolf strength would have never allowed a palm to keep him down. “Sugar. Half a teaspoon, flat.” Stiles smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done!!! Thanks for sticking with me <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave a comment!


End file.
